IPW

Oh Bama

http://obama.senate.gov/press/070123-debunked_insight_magazine_and_fox_news_smear_campaign/index.html

I know my reader(s) are intelligent people, but just in case some of you run with politically sketchy crowds you might hear something about Barak Obama being a "Radical Muslim". It might be good for this country if he was a Muslim Muslim (he's not), but that is not the target of a campaign started by Insight magazine (owned by the Washington Times) and Fox News (Owned by the Republican Party). No they "reported" (to be used here VERY lightly) that Senator Obama was schooled in a madrassa, a fundamentalist Islamic school, when he was young. The above link should put a stop to any of that sort of behavior, until election time at least. Thankfully, Obama (and CNN actually) have taken proactive steps to counter this fable. And I am too.

State of the Union, 1st Draft

This first draft of the State of the Union speech was found stuck to the bottom of Dick Cheney's shoe. It was hand written in pencil and had many fanciful drawings in the margins. We have left out words that were crossed out, but left in the misspellings.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, The President of the United States of America"

(deafening applause)

THE PRESIDENT: Thank you very much. And tonight, I have a high privilege and distinct honor of my own -- as the first President to begin the State of the Union message with these words: Madam Speaker.

(Mild to luke warm Applause.)

Ha Ha, that's funny stuff, Madam Speaker. Who knew by golly? Well, Now that that's over. Ladies and Gents, I am standing here tonight thanks to Jeebus..uh Jesus Christ who personally anointed me with this position and I have taken that fact and ran with it. The fact that I was divinely positioned in this position gave me much political capital. Which I have felt free to spend. I have SPENT my political capital and now I ask you ladies and gents, got any to spare? I'm just trying to raise enough to get back to Texas. Heh heh

(Applause, great amounts of Laughter?)

But seriously folks, we are in a pickle in Iraq. A grade "A" sour pickle. Not sure how we got there, I don't like to dwell in the past. See, the Democrat party dwells in the past. This happened, this didn't happen, you cut funding for the dykes in Louisiana long before the hurricane thumped it, you made up a bunch of stuff about yellow cake uranium, you know, past stuff. But me, I like to talk about the future. How the heck can we get out of this pickle in Iraq in the future? This is a war that we won a couple times, now we just need to win it a couple more times. An with God's help, and Allah's

(pause for sidesplitting laughter)

Heh heh, With them boy's help we'll win it once and fur all. An about other stuff, dormestic stuff, well, that's gonna work itself out. Mah fiscal plan is gonna be to stop spending so much durn money in Eyeraq, once we win, once them turrurists stop "bringing it on" Heh heh, once our boys and girls come home to there mommas, we can REFOCUS (maybe I should lift mah hand and pinch mah thumb and forefinger together here) we can REFOCUS our CAPITAL on 'Merica.

(Standing ovation, people fallin all over the place clappin')

(wait fur dern clappin' to stop cause people are still cryin' an hootin all over ther place)

An there's some other stuff, but I haven't thought of it yet. But then here's mah closin line:

In such courage and compassion, ladies and gents, we see the grit of America -- and these qualities ain't lackin. This is a decent and honorable country -- Ah like it here. We've been through a lot together. We've met challenges and faced dangers, and we know that more lie. Ahead. Lies ahead, careful heh heh heh. Yet we can go forward with cornfidence -- because the State of our Union is strong, our cause in the world is right, and tonight that cause goes on. God bless.

(Crazy Applause. People are cryin an cheerin and durn it if it don't look like a gospel thingy cause people are throwin their clothes all around)

See you next year fur another durn good speachin. Thank you for your prayers to Jeebus.

*You can find the final draft of the speech here:
http://www.whitehouse.gov/news/releases/2007/01/20070123-2.html

Bigot Me This

http://www.nytimes.com/2007/01/22/arts/television/22grey.html?em&ex=1169701200&en=58979726a56f5515&ei=5087%0A

So read that article and you will be caught up on who said what to who and why and oh my god!! Um, and its in the New York Times, not 'People'. Or "Flash" or "DumbAss" of any of those insipid magazines that dote on the moronic activities of morons. I think there is a good reason it's in the Times though. It is really about Racism and Homophobia. Its about the power of insult now, vs. 30 years ago. You see, this article makes me feel extremely positive.

In the seventees, gay people were not only discriminated against, but they were beaten and killed. Granted there are still bigots aplenty, but society in large has taken such a massive shift that the use of a certain three letter word that describes both a bundle of sticks and insults gay people has reached the (im)moral equivalency of the N word. At least judging by the fact that this article never mentions it. Peel the onion back a little and you'll note that I can't even bring myself to write the N word, not that I want to. 40 years ago, I wouldn't have thought twice (while, um, blogging in my own head)

No matter how down you get about bigots in this world, just do a little time traveling. Ask yourself to go back to the sixtees or seventees and picture the fear and apprehension that millions of minorities had even just being themselves. That's the uplifting part of this story, that the country is now coming down on the perpetrator of the "F" word. (To differentiate F words, this F word will be called F3) That the New York Times has jumped on the bandwagon of denunciation is just another sign that somehow, someway We are headed in the right direction.

This is not to say that people do not live in fear today. Of course they still do. But I honestly feel that the communities they are afraid of are now in the minority themselves, and getting smaller with every article like this written.

Homo Neanderthalensis

Occasionally I start a blog entry but don't get back to for a while. I find myself roadblocked by the unfinished thing until I can regain the momentum I had to start it in the first place. In the meantime I have these thoughts I'd like to share with my dear readers that simply pile up like so much hair in the shower drain.

Now that I've gotten "Sorry, Got This Box" out of my system I want to run a few things past you. Firstly, Hey! Nice to see you! Secondly, How are your invisible cloaks coming along?

We watched an excellent movie last night. We are trying to watch films from countries included in our trip plans so last night's found us with two flicks. "Tropically Malady" from Thailand was almost unwatchable and forced us to do something we almost never do, turn it off. It came highly recommended though so check it out if you want to watch a couple hours of rambling psudo-delirious tropical gay romance. The camel's back snapped in two when they started furiously licking each other's hands while wearing simpering grins. Ugh. Color me homophobic if you will, but I assure you I would have turned it off if it was any combination of sexes licking and simpering.

The second flick of the evening was much better, "Once Were Warriors" from New Zealand deals with the modern travails of the Maori people who as the title suggests, once were warriors but are now minorities in their own country, victims of colonization. I won't get too much into the movie itself but it also deals with more universal issues of alcoholism, domestic violence and enablers. It got me thinking primarily of colonization though. It got me thinking about how stupid George Bush actually is. Wait, what?? What does GW have to do with "Once Were Warriors"? What W doesn't understand are previously colonized people's deep felt feelings of anger and shame. And that the proper way deal with that is not to bomb them back to the stone age, further entrenching said feelings of anger and shame.

It is amazing to me how much the Maori, the Native Americans and yes, the Iraqis all have in common. And of course, add you own favorite subjugated people here. Islam generally takes care of the rampant alcoholism that tends to tear apart other native communities, but what it lacks in substance abuse it makes up for in hatred for its (perceived or otherwise) oppressors. I actually have a theory that alcoholism turns violence inwards, towards your own community and family since it triggers an immediate and reactionary violence, not the meditative violence that has manifested in radical Islam.

Of course the degree to which we are actually the oppressors in Islamic states can be argued. Many Islamists would argue that our mere presence, coupled with centuries of aggressive behavior (the crusades, btw remember when W actually used that word to describe our 'war on terror' has there ever been a bigger idiot?) constitutes oppression. Whatever the case we have meddled in their affairs for no other reasons than religion and oil, neither one being a good excuse to mess people about.

Maybe Bush has me thinking about Neanderthals lately. Wondering what happened to them. As homo-sapiens became the dominant hominid in Europe, they had to figure out what to do with the pesky and slow Neanderthal. They were hairy and stinky and prone to throwing stuff at the Homos (people, please we are having a serious discussion). Eventually Neandys dissapeared. As far as I know, there are two schools of thought on what happened. And it seems to break down simply into a positive explanation: H.Sapiens interbred with them until they became part of us, and a negative explanation: H.Sapiens killed them all. The interbreeding theory is a very free love, glass half full way of thinking. I would like to think that is what went down. Unfortunately, given the behavior of modern humans, it might have been the later theory. I wonder if there was an early homo-sapien version of GW, going on and on about the "War on Stuff Being Thrown at Us" who went on the lead the annihilation of the Neanderthal. I hope not. I hope we've changed more than that in the past 50 thousand years.

Anyway, read more about the Neanderthals here:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Neanderthal

Sorry, Got This Box

I carried a large box home from the office the other day. It was actually on a day when I wasn't in the office which made my idea of sending said huge box to the office a little counter-productive. I usually am there though and am usually not at home during the days when I would be able to answer the buzzer and let the UPS guy in. No, we do not have a doorman. There are two New Yorks.

The New York of people who have doormen, in which people live lives unencumbered by doing mundane things like opening the door for themselves and waiting all day for a package to arrive.

The New York of people without doormen, who have to wait at home if they are expecting a package, or arrange with a neighbor, or have the package shipped to the coffee shop next door, or like ourselves, have packages shipped to work.

The doorman New Yorkers are good folks, but they have never done the character building activity of carrying a huge box on the subway at rush-hour. Having made the special trip into the city to pick up the box I decided against removing the item from the large brown box it came in. As a large brown box it looked much less tempting to potential box-robbers than the smaller box inside with, "Brand New Laptop: Carried by Lanky Seattleite" printed on it. However, though the size didn't increase the weight of the package much, it increased it's awkwardness considerably. Some part of me thought it would be an adventure. Some part of me should be beaten.

It only just fit through the turnstile. No room to spare which meant it did not accommodate my hands carrying it. I had to wedge it in so that it was supported on either side of the entry, swipe my card, and then sort of run through the turnstile, force the package through and try to catch it as it popped free. This would have been an excellent time to rob me of several things, but even the most hardened criminals looking on must have felt it didn't pose enough of a challenge.

It is a two train journey from the office to home. Two trains and a 15 minute walk. The first train (the "R" for the subway curious) was a cinch. Not many people to contend with though there was insane man stumbling toward me, slowly, from the other end of the car. I was blocking his passage, but fortunately he was severely insane and this impeded his progress more than my box ever would have. The train stopped before he reached me. The next train, the "L" proved more precarious. I tried to pick the door that I felt would have the least amount of passengers piling in around and behind me and for a little while I thought I'd made a good choice. But along with the laptop, the package contained a powerful magnet that sprang into action as soon as the train arrived on the platform. People were pulled from all around, people that hadn't even intended on going to Brooklyn suddenly felt the pull and changed their minds. Ladies with strollers were dragged against their will to my door and soon, after the dust settled and the train doors closed I found myself crushed between commuters, half holding the box over my head, with one elbow resting on some dear old Polish lady's mohair hat. It was a precarious stance as I had no hands left to grab a rail to steady myself. Fortunately, I was so tightly wedged in that I could have lifted my feet if I'd wanted to and clicked my heels together. I wasn't going anywhere. As the train lurched to and fro, the sea of people swayed like reeds. Reeds with a box sitting on top of them. My arms were getting tired as was my Polish friend's head. I was getting scowled at from several directions. If someone had to get off they had to duck under my box, and get a bon voyage bonk from my free elbow.

At the Bedford stop, my stop, I had to negotiate with tired arms past stollers and those commuters who had decided to stay on one extra stop just to make my life miserable. Once again the magnet was working, but this time it was only drawn to people's foreheads, the corners of the box specially attracted to eyeballs. I was bodily shoved from the car, thankfully.

The 10 pound box was rapidly doubling in weight. As I lugged it deep into Williamsburg, away from streetlamps and witnesses, it became heavier and in my mind more tempting. I tried to adopt the stance of a man carrying a load of garbage. I stared at the package with disgust, practically willing people to take it. I tried to think of all the heinous things I might be carrying and reflect that in my expression. It seems like it worked. I shuffled past a large group of darkly dressed young gentlemen as if I was Jacob Marley carrying my burden forged in life. They prayed for me.

Once home I opened the package. Inside was another, much smaller brown unmarked package, which made perfect sense. I'd like to say that inside that was another and another and another, finally ending in a a tiny but heavy lead babushka doll, but the actually laptop box was only two layers deep. Had I been clever enough to open it in the first place a small Polish woman with a mohair hat wouldn't be icing her forehead right now. But I still probably would have accidentally poked her in the eye.

A Cry For Help

"Dear Mr. Tuesday,

You are my favorite day. I'm glad you are here again. You are soo neat. Monday is soo mean and Wednesday doesn't even talk to you. I'm soo sorry that the other days don't like you. Personally, I like you. A lot. I agree with you that technically speaking you should be made the first day of the week. Tuesday is really the day that things get going. Mondays are like, sad, and mean. But by Tuesdays, all right! Things are going good! And once Tuesday is over, it is really almost the end of the week. I mean, Tuesday should be Hump-day!!! And Tuesday? Sometimes I write letters to myself too.

BFF

Tues-- month."

(it was at the end of the letter here that there were found big fat tuesday tear drop stains.)

The Aromist

It seems that New York City has an Aromist on the loose. An Aromist is a cowardly character who goes about loosing smells of all kinds of varieties onto the populace. Last year it was the smell of maple syrup, and this morning, more sinisterly, it is the smell of gas. So far, the subways have only been shut down for a moment. According to various news sources, the air quality is good, and there is no drop in gas pressure. The only conclusion therefore, is that there is a madman out there, distributing odd smells to unsettle the citizenry. What's next, Cherry Pie smell? I wouldn't object I guess. It does seem that "he" (could be a she, or multiple people, or multiple eunuchs, this is a very sexually diverse city) tested the "smell currents" with the Maple Syrup Smell at least twice last year. This led people to wonder of course, "Pancakes?"

It also put me in mind, if I recall correctly, of an excellent children's book called "Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs" in which a town experiences food as weather. They have to abandon the town after the church is flattened by, yes, a pancake. This continues to tickle my fancy some 25 years later. I would love to see giant pancakes lying around town. I might even be able to take a few of them on, I'm quite a pancake eater.

I digress though. Currently the effected areas are in Manhattan, from central park south to battery park, and across the river to New Jersey. I was under the impression that Jersey always sort of smelled a bit gassy, but maybe now they have an excuse.

I and other readers are wondering what the Aromist might look like. He/She would certainly have a big nose. He/She would probably like to own an invisible cloak like the readers of this blog. We can assume though, that He/She is not one of your small number and therefore has not had access to the invisible cloak formula. I here provide an artist's sketch, provided to me by a orphaned gyspy (Rom) lad, of the Aromist:

Good Morning, From Monday

Monday here. You can call me Mr. Monday. You don't have to like me, I certainly don't like you, but you do have to accept that I am here to stay. I got a job to do after all and that is to whip your disgraceful self back into shape after that cushy weekend gig. Straighten up! Stop looking out the window! As long as you behave, you and Mr. Monday are gonna get along. "Ew Monday Monday, So good to.." Bullhonkey Maggot! Monday ain't good to nobody, except maybe Monday's Momma! You are a sorry sap aren't you? You know what happens to people who cruise through Monday, thinking those fairies from the weekend are gonna come back and pamper them with God talk and barbecue sauce? They turn into Tuesday! That simpering creep from next door. Need I say more? Didn't think so. Alright Sally, quit yer cryin' and let's get you ready to do that thang.

Invisible Cloaks

Here is the formula for invisible cloaks from our dear reader Brap:

"First find invisible mitochondria. just breed some of those dudes, they make their invisible cells then you get invisible fibers. then you just get that and stitch it together with invislble thread."

Let's get started people. Once we have these bad boys we will be able to pick each other out of any crowd. Cause, we'll be the ones that...aren't...there. hang on. Logic will tell us that the spaces, between people in crowds, are readers of this blog.

I think we can work with that.

World Tour '07

Several pieces of news for you, dear readers:

• Conversations between Days of the Week™, has been put on hold due to to violations of New Years Resolution #2. Also, it has been brought to my attention that it is a rip-off of a Pizza Hut..minoes...time...father's™ commercial. Brought to my attention by myself. I now admit for an extreme fondness for that commercial and really just wanted to expand on it. I might keep doing it.

• Magda and I are now officially leaving for a trip around the world in September. We will be gone for a year and are primarily planning on traveling around the Indian Ocean, basically. Our current itinerary includes this route: SE Asia, India, Africa (South Africa and possibly Kenya*) across to Australia, ACROSS Australia, over to New Zealand and then back up towards Asia. Taiwan, China**, Mongolia and then back to Beijing to try and volunteer for the Olympics. Then home. We are assuming that "Home" will be NY, but life is funny in the way that it makes you rethink the notion of Home.
In any event, we are also officially soliciting contacts in any and all countries along our route, to meet with, stay with, make friends with or make friends with friends of. So if any of my four readers knows anyone along this route who enjoy meeting travelers in a state of High Stink, please introduce us!

• There have been complaints from one reader (there's always one) complaining that she can't figure out which entries she's read because the months are in Polish. This despite the fact that she's now had a year's course in the Polish language focused exclusively on the months of the year. So in order to accommodate an entire one fourth of my readership (it could be an even higher percentile, I have no way of knowing) I've changed all the dates back to English. I know that the rest of you will miss your weekly Polish courses, but feel free to Skype us and we will refer your to Magda's mother, who I'm sure will be happy to to speak at you in that language, free of charge.

• I'm trying to come up with a secret sign for the readers of this blog. I often joke that I have only four readers. This might be an exaggeration. I know for a fact that I have one reader, besides myself, and sadly she is not my wife. That reader may be you, probably is. On our recent trip to Seattle I talked to a good friend, who SHOULD be reading my blog but has never indicated that he has been. He knew certain facts though that he could only have gleaned from these pages. It should also be noted that I have a terrible memory and I began to think that we had had a conversation that I'd simply forgotten. Unlikely since our conversations are memorable for their put-downs and other mutual abuse. I feel we all need to identify each other somehow, outside of this virtual community. I propose when we next meet, I will deliver you an open handed slap. If you respond in kind, I will know that you are a reader of this blog. Alternatively, we could wear coats made from the skins of beasts and throw red paint on one another as a greeting. My final suggestion is to invent, then wear, invisible cloaks. If we don't see each other at all, we will know with whom we stand.

Any and all suggestions are welcome. Please contribute.

*potentially more countries, including the city of Zanzibar, from which we have been warned off of by our outrageous friend GC. Who has been everywhere. It should be noted though that she tends to frequent places in which there is at least some hot running water, which would preclude the office at which I am currently working in NYC.)

**China has hot running water for the most part. Don't you think that if China has hot running water, the office I'm working in should? The bosses would argue that there is an electric tea kettle, but that argument (it torments me to say) does not hold water.

Conversations between Days of the Week™ Part II: Mr. Humpday

Yo, Humpday here. "Wedns Humpday?" you ask? Hahah. Anyhow. They should have talked to me first, I'm the "Tent Pole" day of the week. Everything kinda comes down to me being right in the middle. In order to get to the other days, ya gotta get through me. I don't even talk to the guy next to me. Don't even know his name. Why should I? I'm Humpday. After me, everything is downhill is the reason they call me that. That and other reasons. Hahah. But really, is it cause I'm tough to get through? Hells yeah! But like I say, after me it's easy, so folks are glad to meet me, right in the middleadaweek. Thursday follows my gig. Thursday's soft. Thursday's crowdin my shadow. I heard once that people were treatin Thursday like Mr. Friday, drinkin, goin out...humpin! Hahah. You know. That's BS though, nobody is Friday like Mr. Friday. Damn that day is hot. Now I would trade places with Mr. Friday anytime. Mr. Friday don't talk much me though. I think Friday's got a big head. HEY WHAT THE HELL FRIDAY???? I don't think he's listenin to me. Me, Humpday. Who needs ya frickin Friday.

Tuesday Anyone?

Hi, I'm Mr. Tuesday. I like being me! For lotsa reasons, but maybe my favorite is that I follow Mr. Monday. See, sometimes, like today, Mr. Monday is made into an honorary weekend day and then I get to be the day of the week that everyone both fears and respects a bit too. I think people see Mr. Monday as a force to be reckoned with. I don't think people think that about me. Maybe today they do! I don't know, no one writes songs about me. Does Tuesday sound weak to you? Not to me. It sounds pretty strong. Sometimes Mr. Monday teases me but that's okay. It's better than being ignored by that JERK Wednesday! "Hump Day" my foot. What a jerk.

New Year's Resolve

We have reason to celebrate! This is the 60th entry into this blog and the first one of the new year. Oh yeah and happy new year. Wyeah. An arbitrary number has turned into another, though successive, arbitrary number at an arbitrary date of our arbitrary calendar. Oops! I already broke my first New Year's resolution: Don't be cynical about our beloved Holidays! I was railing against Christmas the other day, but won't repeat my rant here. Okay, I will a bit (I know you want to hear it) Basically I was suddenly astonished by the fact that there was a tree growing out of the floor of my Mom's living room, and in response to that development we decorated it with sparkling flotsam on hooks. Does it have anything to do with the wee baby Jesus? Not a thing. Let's go down the list:

Tree in middle of room: nothing to do with baby Jeebus

electric lights on tree in middle of room: not a thing to do with Jeebus

Date of December 25th?: Not one creepin thing...

You get the point and I have continued to break my resolution. Granted I was simply recounting a complaint I made LAST year. So it doesn't count. Shall we move on to my other resolutions which I vow not to break?

Resolution #2: I vow to sit down and create a dialogue between the days of the week. Mr. Monday, have you any unresolved feelings about Mr. Friday?

Resolution #3: More Blog entries that make sense. That means that I probably should not include the results of resolution #2 in this blog.

Resolution #4: When writing my blog, I shall not rise to the bait of other bloggers who will not be named that continue to taunt me and the city I grew up in. I will however make veiled threats against his house and home and perhaps spend hours I don't have to spend photoshopping his head onto various and sundry beasts.

Concerning writing more in this blog, and concerning the end of the "year", I will now calculate the number of entries, averaged per day since my first entry. Let's see, four plus nine, carry the % multiply by carrot...

Hey! That's pretty good! The results of my highly scientific calculations indicate that I have written, on average, one entry every sixth day over the last (period of time in which the earth has completed one revolution around the sun). That's not as bad as I thought my record might have been. I should be able to keep such good records of all my mediocre achievements.

Let's see, I have put out four mouse traps since arriving in New York and I have caught one mouse. Okay, let's take it to the computer: Buuwhee Tak Pahp Buhzzuuuu....

That would be .250 mice caught. Aha! If I were playing baseball that would earn me a spot in the Mariners starting line-up! If they would finally stop fooling with around baseball equipment and start catching mice.

I think I'll ask Magda if we can resolve to get a cat.