IPW

A Theist

I have to admit I'm an atheist. I know, some of my religious friends out there just winced, but honestly, couldn't you tell? Would a person with any sense of religious dignity draw a picture of God and the Gang? I haven't wanted to discuss religion too openly here in this blog, since I have at least one good friend who is strictly religious. But I don't think he's reading, so we'll try to slip this by him. I don't really want to hammer anyone with my atheism, just as I wouldn't like anyone to hammer me with their religion. I did come across an excellently written essay about Atheism by Penn Gilette of Penn & Teller fame about why he is an atheist. It is way better than anything I could write, so I will post a link to it here if you are interested.

Gilette

Along the same lines is another link, provided to me by Brap, who has provided other fine bits for this blog in the past:

De Grasse Tyson

Written by Neil deGrasse Tyson for Natural History Magazine, this piece best throws a bucket of water on a pet peeve theory of mine: "If WE can't figure it out, God must have made it." This theory is not only illogical and self-centered, but it is defeatist; something counter to the human character. If you are interested in why this theory, which some truly clever people have invoked over the years to 'prove' the existence of God, is so grating to me have a look at the link.

If you DO believe in God, and think that I'M crazy for dismissing His/Her existence, then feel free not to hit the above links, but please continue reading this blog. I may not subscribe to religion, but I appreciate Faith a great deal. Some of the most beautiful people I've ever met have been people of great Faith and I have the utmost respect for people who believe strongly, and live by a strict moral code. I'm just not on board with their theories.

The Pipe Man Cometh

Hey all, not too much to report today other than I saw this man standing on E. 26th street between 6th and Broadway today. He was quite a character, and yes his apron was purple.

Other than that I will save my rant about CNN's coverage of Al Gore's personal energy consumption (presented under the headline "Developing Story") until later. Well, maybe I will just rant a little right now. Basically they did a little snoopin' after Gore's big Oscar night and if turns out that his house uses a lot of electricity and gas. O! Can it be? The Environmental Hero is a hypocrite? For shame, let's all rest easy and go back to chugging around in SUVs cause Al Gore doesn't live in a tree-hut using squirrel powered generators to charge his electric bicycle. I'm not sure Gore ever used himself as an example of virtue when citing America's energy consumption numbers (5% of the world's population, 26% of its energy usage) He just said America uses a lot, and he is an American. Declaring environmentalists hypocrites is the easiest and oldest way for anti-environement people to assuage their guilt. It is too difficult to be 100% green, and therefore we should do nothing at all, in fact we should buy bigger cars with lower gas mileage cause what's the point anyway? The fact is that if everyone did a 10th of what Gore has done for the environment we wouldn't be looking at oceanfront properties in Kansas in ten years. Is he perfect? The answer isn't no, the answer is why should he be? If he thinks he's working towards the most energy efficient lifestyle for him, then I applaud him and wish people would start doing the same. If everyone changed their lifestyles even a bit, switched the whole house to florescent bulbs for instance, America might actually have a leg to stand on when we start lecturing India and China about faulty environmental practices. Anyway, thanks CNN for getting me worked up, but wait, doesn't the media have a liberal bias?

Oh and I might add that the Christian Right, who for some reason* tend to fall into the anti-environment category, might want to review their hypocrite policy lest they exclude 99% of their number from their church.

*Genesis 1:26:
And God said, Let us make man in our image, after our likeness: and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over the cattle, and over all the earth, and over every creeping thing that creepeth upon the earth.

The Geese Made Me Do It

It's been a busy week, with coming back late on Monday night from Quebec (check out the alter-blog for more, truncated, info on that adventrue), to return to work where the illustration department is busier than ever. A couple interesting things of note this week, maybe not least of which is this first paragraph of an article I just read on the CNN website:

CENTENNIAL, Colorado (AP) -- A 53-year-old woman who claimed she received spiritual messages from geese before allegedly stabbing her toddler granddaughter to death was found not guilty by reason of insanity Friday.

Not much to comment on there, only that I wish geese would talk to me too. I just hope they don't try to convince me to kill someone. That said, if I were a goose I would tell people to do all kinds of crazy things, cause I think anyone that would listen to a goose would be up for a bit of craziness.

Ash Wednesday was on Wednesday. I haven't asked Wednesday what he thinks about that. Before we came to NY I'd never truly witnessed the results of the celebration of this Catholic holiday. A large black ash thumbprint or cross on the brow distinguishes the followers of this Christian sect for the only time of the year. We are very aware of it here mostly because of the number of people you pass on the sidewalk and subways here, somewhat because of the number of Catholics in this city. It's a little disconcerting for us non-religios to suddenly one day start passing people (who otherwise bare little resemblance to each other) who all look like they've hit their heads on the fireplace flue. My first reaction is to give them a heads up: "You got a little somethin..." but I think that would be considered rude, despite my best intentions. More power to them I say, if you have one chance per year to wear your religion on your proverbial sleeve, why not look like a chimney sweep while doing it? My own favorite Catholic consultant, M, who was raised in the second most Catholic country in the world (behind Italy, but they have the advantage of having the Pope surrounded) thinks the practice is strange too. In Poland they also have the ash, but it is sprinkled, not smudged, on your dome.

What kind of marks would Zorroastrians wear on their foreheads do you think? Go to the head of the class.

Clinton v Obama=No Story

I just want to inform everyone that despite the stories in the papers about a Clinton/Obama clash, there is no story. A supporter of Obama's made some snarky comments about Hillary. Hillary demanded Obama distance himself politically and financially from supporter. Obama responded saying his supporter's opinion was just that, his opinion. The whole thing stops there. Why is this headline news? George Bush committed political murder against John McCain in 2000 by insisting McCain's adopted Bangladeshi child was a black child born out of wedlock. This egregious lie basically finished McCain's campaign. So when we are talking about political intrigue here, we are talking about disagreements on massively different scales. One one hand, Clinton and Obama having an exchange about the opinions of supporters, on the other, George Bush creating outrageous, racist lies to defeat his main opponent. There is no comparison of course, but in the "Liberal" media, no comparison is bothered to be made.

I Hear A Lot of "I Can't"

And not a lot of "I Can". Iraqi people, I beseach you to think positively. I mean, America is thinking positively, and we aren't even Iraqis! Take passports for example. When we arbitrarily stopped accepting Iraqi passports we helpfully suggested that Iraqi embassies update their technology to update existing passports with more technologically advanced, machine readable ones. Right now, Iraqi refugees who are forced to return to Iraq just to update their passports are complaining that they can't see themselves returning to that hell-hole, just for paperwork. I can't I can't I can't. Embassies are complaining that they weren't given enough time to upgrade their passport systems. What? You say you can't? I say You Can! See, that's America's secret to success, our I Can attitude! Want to secede from Britain? I CAN! Want to kick some Nazi toochas? I CAN! Want to interfer with the business of hundreds of poor countries around the world? I CAN!

It's all about your perspective. Sheesh.

Nor'Easter '07

As we discussed last year at about this time, anytime there is a a great puff of wind and some snow, people declare it a "Nor'Easter" just because they can. It is fun to say, I admit. Here we are, in the midsts of what is probably the last Nor'easter before Global Warming starts growing palms trees in central park and the manatees invade. I know it is the last because it is the middle of February (yours truly popped out into this world 33 years ago Friday) and it isn't even snowing in this stupid Nor'easter. It is freezing rain. Now where I come from, if the rain freezes that means snow, but over here things are more complicated. Anyway, the sleet, or frozen rain or whatever was sort of pelting us all day, not sticking to anything just bouncing off like powdered sugar off crepes (thank D for the sugar analogy). Usually I get psyched about this sort of thing, but not tonight. For tomorrow, we are renting a car and driving to Quebec City to visit my step-bro Phil. Does it sound like an incredibly bad idea to drive even farther north in a Nor'easter? You decide. Sounds like an adventure to me, but even the best adventures are incredibly bad ideas. Taking a steam-ship to Skull Island and capturing a giant ape: great adventure, bad idea. Anyway, if we live, I will tell you how it goes. If not, I bequeath this blog to my buddy Rob who will be in charge of blathering on without end.

Oh right, and happy Valentimes day.

Meanwhile, I have to run over to my other blog to give that one equal time. After mass emailing everyone in the world, I expect to be have at least five people reading it with some regularity. Maybe four. Provided you four go over and read it. Let's go! ('Member where it is?: http://realtravel.com/the_world-trips-i3221703.html)

Dueling Blogs?

Yes folks, there are dueling blogs. I just sent out a mass emailing that most of you four should have gotten, pardon my inexcusable oversight to you who were left off the list. But I will repeat my announcement here that we have purchased the first half of our Round the World trip tickets, and that I've started up another blog to cover the preparations and then the trip itself. This is all assuming anyone cares of course, but I figure if you four have been with me this long, you might have the patience for double blog. Here it is:

http://realtravel.com/the_world-trips-i3221703.html

How you might ask, if I'm hardly able to keep up with one blog can I possibly keep up with two? Keep asking questions smart guy, one of these days you'll get the answer right in your toochas.

Stay frosty.

Gorillas At The Gate

I just learned that Al Queda is made up primarily of gorillas. That is to say, that America, the most powerful country in the history of the world, has been brought to the brink of economic and moral destruction by a troupe of gorillas. This is amazing stuff. As far as I knew, gorillas were overlarge monkeys with underlarge brains who deal mainly in leaves and shoots. Don't get me wrong, gorillas do appear to be very stronge and quick. I am amazed that they can haul their big butts around in the bushes as quick as they do. But bring the most powerful nation on earth to its knees? I don't know, I'm a skeptic...

Um, I'm very embarrassed. I've just been informed that Al Queda is made up primarily of guerrillas, not gorillas. Very embarrassing. This is good though, because while researching gorillas, it was starting to become apparent that the American Colonies won independence from Britain using primarily gorilla soldiers and gorilla fighting techniques. It would have been sad to have been beholdened to a bunch of hooting beasts for the freedoms that we now enjoy.

Annoying Things

I just gotta get these things out of my head here. They have been bugging me for a couple of days. I want to express my distaste for the following:

Commercials WITHIN commercials: this seems to be a new fad amongst low budget advertisers, to interrupt one crappy, poorly produced commercial with another one to somehow comment on the first. It is an annoying tactic and makes me instantly forget the product advertised, replacing any subconscious interest I might have with molten hatred.

The Ugly Side of Paris Hilton: Apparently this ubiquitous tart said some bad words on some home videos that were like sold at auction when she like didn't pay the bill on her storage locker. The Press is now calling this her ugly side. Um, WHAT? What was the side we've been looking at???

Barbers: They make me uncomfortable

Barbars: An Elephant Family. The are uncanny, especially when they go pantsless.

Eyelashes: Do we really need them? 100% of the time the thing that is in my eye is a piece of grit or an eyelash. So, if they eyelashes are letting grit in, and then falling into my eye directly afterwards, what's the point? It's not a pool party here Eyelashes, it's my eyeball.

Permanent Makeup: PERMANENT MAKEUP!!!

That's all for now.

Extended Entry!

I am further annoyed (and slightly smitten by) Basho, the Sumo Wrestler Table. It is wrong on so many levels. So many that it might be right.

http://www.skymall.com/shopping/detail.htm?pid=102174152&c

and proof that Basho exists and people actually want to have one (so much as to steal one):

http://www.portercountysheriff.com/main/whatshappening/2005/basho.html

Hairscut Pt.II

I had a crappy barber in Seattle called Smitty's. It is an establishment I chose purely because it looked to me like, and in fact is, the iconic Barbershop. If barbershops have a prototype, it is Smitty's on 15th. It probably hasn't changed since the 50s other than the barbers occasionally dying. They never butchered my hair too badly and I faithfully went to them once every four months. Despite my semi-frequent visits I never was on a first name relationship with the cutters, mainly because I was trying to pretend I was the strong (skinny) silent type who never gave his name, and never articulated how he wanted his hairs cut.

"Shorter."

When we moved to NY I had to start that relationship all over again. First I went to Astor Place Hair which is literally* a sweatshop for Barbers. Cheap, $15, but the bescissored are penned in little barber corrals, waiting for assignments from the overseer at the entry desk. It is a huge open room with dim florescent light that paints the occupants with a greenish wash. There are microscopic hair particles floating in the air that I can only assume follow mini-weather patterns and occasionally form storm clouds when combined with misted water from the spray bottles. I tried Astor's for a few cuts, but found myself being bullied into crew-cuts from the "barbers". One guy tried to convince me that it was the best haircut I've ever had. It was not. I was forced to leave Astor's when my entire lunch hour was spent listening to my haircutter talk about how hot it was in there, maybe as an explanation of her particular fragrance, and how much hotter it had been during the black-out of '03. It was clearly the high point in her career as her client couldn't have seen the result of her butchery. They didn't ask questions though and didn't want to be bothered by the complicated instructions that I'm incapable of giving.

I have a theory that you should go to the barber in foreign countries you visit, as a way of immersing yourself in the culture there. You should also probably carry a picture of yourself with the ideal haircut in order to show them, otherwise you will be forced to do what I did in a certain Czech barbershop and simply point pointedly at the clippers when barked at. I'm already a nervous client, but when asked to give the description of my preferred haircut in the Czech language, I'm a mess. The Czech barber completely shaved my head. Somewhere in Prague, someone is wearing a dishwater blonde sweater. Ironically, my current favorite stylist is in the tiny town of Swarzedz, Poland, where M's parents live. His name is Mariusz, and Magda tells him in Polish how I would (she would) like my hair. Sometime I should ask her exactly what she says.

When I finally found 'Barbershop "Freestyle"' it felt like old home week under the shears of an Eastern European. My favorite lady (Zosha) reminds me of Magda's mother a little, very nice, very straightforward. She doesn't ask me how I want my haircut, she just makes it look okay. Unfortunately this last time Zosha was on vacation, or deported, and in her place was the lipstick sneering blonde in acid-washed jeans.

"Little Shorter"

Well like I said in part one, she took about 12 pounds of hair off my head, but by the end of it it didn't look like she'd done anything at all. Just how I like it actually, which is maybe how I should ask to have it done "Make it look like it hasn't been cut" Which might lead to an expensive five minutes of nose-hair trimming.

Should I go into the conversation I overheard in the midsts of the Russians about Rolex's? A client had a Rolex on (did I mention the hair-cuts are $13?) which inspired all sorts of questions from the male Barbers.

"Get a Timex" said the man with the watch.

The Russians were unconvinced.

"What is the Timex? It is expensive?"

"No, and that's the great thing, when it breaks you just get a new one."

"But I want the Rolex, I have many cheap watches at home."

"It's your money, but I will never buy another one."

"The Rolex is the best."

If there isn't a stereotype about Russians and Rolex's, there should be.

*Literally in this case means it matched the definition of "Sweatshop" in the dictionary precisely: A shop employing workers at low wages, for long hours, and under poor conditions. Those of you who take literally too literally might complain that in this usage, a sweatshop would literally mean a place where they sell sweat. Which would be disgusting, but not so out of the realm of possibility as milk is actually the secretion of an evolved sweat gland**. So literally, a sweatshop might be a milk-bar. But I've never seen one of those.

**http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mammary_gland

Hairscut Pt.I

There is something wrong with me, whenever I get a hair-cut, I turn into a coward. Maybe I was a coward to begin with but the barber really brings in out in me. I think it has something to do with the shame I feel at still, after all this time, being utterly incapable of describing how I'd like my pompadour sheared. It may be too that I am afraid that my hair tells a story when I come in. Yesterday I had my hair cut for the first time in three months. Meaning, I was a bushy fellow. As the Russian hairdresser at "Barbershop Freestyle" eyed my overgrown locks, I could tell she was making a note of how little I cared for her craft and fellow craftsmen.

"You have a lot of hair" She intoned with a heavily lipsticked sneer. "What you want me to do with it?"

Well, cut it of course, but here was the moment I fear, in this all too small window of opportunity I am to describe the exact manner in which my favorite haircuts were given, what tools were used, length was cut, undergrowth was trimmed. Not knowing any of that, I freeze, and say,

"Little shorter I guess"

No, a little longer moron. Of course a little shorter, but I figure "A little" saves me from being sheared like a lamb, as is what happened once. It could be my pension for getting my haircut from non-English speakers that makes everything so difficult. I don't think so. I actually think it helps. When an English speaker is cutting my hair, I feel they are even more appalled by my inarticulateness.

More on this topic to come, as it is rich with self shame and riotous characters.