Friday, August 7, 2009

I want that...

This very well may be my dream house. It isn't everything I'd want, but this is far from settling.

check it out.

Wednesday, July 29, 2009

Whoever thought we'd have to argue about what we should eat?

As someone who has bounced around the scale from Vegan to Carnivorous Beast and everything in between I find it really interesting how much evidence there is pointing to veganism as being a healthy, sustainable way of life. Well of course it is! What else COULD it be? Veganism is a sort of truncated way of saying "the foraging for nuts and berries diet." If you can do it though, you should. Here's why (courtesy Ezra Klein and The Washington Post).

Dont care to read the whole artice? Ok, well, it's great and you should, but I'll summarize. Eating less meat is good for the earth because its more efficient for farmers to grow grain and feed it to people than for the same grain to be fed to cows who are then eaten by people. Not to mention all those cow farts (burps are apparently a bigger problem, says the article) contribute mightily to greenhouse gasses.

What's that? You love bacon-wrapped chicken-fried steak too much to give up meat. I hear that argument. Personally I like the irony in the old addage "I'd love to be a vegetarian, but I'd like to keep my strength." I find this to be true to a point. If you aren't the kind of person who can eat sticks and berries (quite literally) and be satisfied with that as a meal, you tend to replace a lot of meat in meals with, well, processed crap. That's not good for the environment nor is it good for your waistline.

Right now you're thinking "wait, he's crossed his own tracks...what's going on here?" My point(s) is that all of these ideas have substantial validity and in order to get people (especially American people) to take their medicine, we might have to stick it inside a piece of ham (it always worked with the dogs.) Cookbook author, tv personality, and notorious gastronome Mark Bitman is actually advocating a sort of responsible eating called "Vegan before 6."

Ok, did you read that. Well, you have to. Go back. I'll wait.

Ok, so it's quite an interesting idea Bitty has. And it's totally workable for most people. The truth is that it's OK (for the environment, however ethically dubious) to eat meat, as long as it's in moderation. Moderation being something we do poorly in this country because most people feel that it's close to unconstitutional.

Of course, there are lots of solutions to this problem that no one is talking about. One simple thought is to support small family farms by buying locally. Better food, closer to you--seems like a no brainer. Of course, all of those cow factories have more or less pushed the little guy out of the market, but that's a whole other post.

Monday, July 27, 2009

Goodbye, Merce

"The highest purpose is to have no purpose at all. This puts one in accord with nature, in her manner of operation. " -John Cage

"We need not destroy the past. It is gone." -John Cage

One of the greatest artists and philosophers who has ever lived has died. I'd like to write something here that would even begin to express how mixed up I feel right now, and how lost, and how sad, and how small. I can't though, because when it comes to summing up something of this scale, I'm a cricket climbing Everest. Wholly insignificant.

My only consolation is this:

I just know they're together somewhere. Conspiring. John is smoking while Merce doodles. Bob sips his drink and the ice cubes chime on the inside of the glass and that's music. And there's laughter, and thought, and joy, and it's all art.

(Photo via magazine--dont miss this wonderful article about the competetive dialogue between Rauschenberg and Warhol by Charlie Finch.)

Thursday, July 16, 2009

The best part of living in an historic place...

is when you realize that there are dead people all around you. Sometimes figuratively and other times quite literally. It’s the feeling you get when you’re in an old cathedral and your tour guide tells you there are peole entombed in the wall. Check out this post from A Very Grave Blog.

If you think about it, this makes total sense. I remember years ago on a visit to London marveling with a kind of skin crawling fascination at Green Park, which had originated as a plague pit (a place for the bodies of plague victims...if you needed clarification on that one) but later came to be a burial ground for lepers. Once burials stopped the place became grown over with grass and trees and since no one wanted to go digging in order “to construct a proper park” it got the name Green Park due to the (mostly) lack of flowers. It’s a very lovely lawn, complete with those famous beach chairs.

The same goes for NYC. Hundreds of thousands of people were buried under what is now Washington Square Park, Madison Park, and Bryant Park (see potter’s field). There’s something to consider when someone tells you the price of their new apartment with the great view of a cemetery…

Thursday, July 2, 2009

When I'm stressed, I cook

It's true. I think I learned it from my mother. There's definitely an underlying "food will fix it" mentality in my family. Also "booze will fix it," but that's another post.

Because I am such an avid cook I've now taken it upon myself to cook everything I would normally buy pre-made. I really have come to hate prepackaged food and somewhere along the line I've picked up the mantra that "there's nothing you can buy that's better than what you can make at home." Whether its true or not, (and it isn't...have you had the brownies at Pret?) I've developed my own recipe for protein bars--and they're delicious. If you need a quick fix snack for after the gym or working in the yard, try them out.

You will need:
2 cups Oatmeal (rolled oats, the normal Quaker kind)
A pot of coffee (make at least 4 cups, you might get sleepy)
1-2 ripe bananas
Whey Protein Powder
1 whole egg (beaten)
4 egg whites
½ tsp baking powder
Pinch of salt
Dash of vanilla extract

Chocolate chips
Peanut butter

I start with 2 cups of regular oatmeal and soften it in a bowl by adding about 1/5 cup of coffee. Once the oatmeal has absorbed the coffee I mash it with a fork until there are no more big oat pieces (not good eats). After that round of mashing I add 1-2 ripe bananas (however many you have lying around—this is integral to keeping them moist) and resume mashing, until the whole thing is more or less homogenized. Then I add 6-8 scoops of chocolate whey protein (any protein powder will do). Mix this all together and thin with a little more coffee to keep everything lubricated (your aiming for something close to brownie batter in consistency, if it’s too thin add more oatmeal or protein powder). Add 1 beaten egg, a dash of vanilla extract, ½ tsp of baking powder (or soda…I don’t really know the difference but they’re both for leavening) and a pinch of salt. Mix well. At this point, feel free to add chocolate chips, nuts, peanut butter, raisins or whatever else you have lying around. I prefer half a bag of mini chocolate chips (for better chocolate flavor dispersion) and some crushed walnuts (for that omega 3 stuff). Mix it all up. Good stuff.

In a separate bowl beat 4 egg whites until they are fluffy and you’ve got soft peaks forming. Gently fold this together with your batter (this step can be omitted if you don’t have an electric mixer, or if your too busy, or if you just don’t care enough to, but I think it helps make them lighter and fluffier, which makes it more like a delicious baked-good. Do not, however, omit the egg whites entirely. Just add them and stir, ok?)

Pour the batter into a greased 13x9 pan (after I grease it, I throw some more oatmeal onto it, and shake it around to evenly cover the bottom and sides , which may or may not prevent sticking. Either way, it looks nice) and bake in a preheated 350 degree oven for 15-20 minutes or until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean. Let cool before cutting and coaxing out of the pan (usually involves a little flexible metal spatula). Enjoy.

Wednesday, June 24, 2009

what if...

What if I collected litter from the city's streets, washed it, ground it to pulp and used it to make home made paper that I then did little prints on and sold as cool stationary...

What if I did paintings that explored only non-fiction events using images from those events and a sort of "historical imagination" that supplied the emotional tone...

What if, on my daily walk to work, I took photos and when I got home that night made a painting using those photos as source material. I could do one every day, or pick the best from the week and make one a week...

What if it were possible to position artwork outside of the umbrella of modern cultural perspective to examine the values of collective memory...essentially, mimetics as a motivating art theory, what would that look like...

anything? anybody? I'm dying here.

Monday, June 22, 2009

Knickerbocker Holiday

They are rehearsing for Knickerbocker Holiday in the other room and singing one of my favorite songs. Here it is sung rather etherially by Ms. Garland.

A gem

The next time you're in New York, you have to make it a point to visit The Cloisters (this is a link to their blog). It's the branch of The Met that houses their medieval art collection (from about the year 500 CE to 1500 CE) and the building itself if made up of pieces of abbys, chapels, monestaries and the odd apse or two. It's really a unique little get-away spot nestled in Fort Tryon park with spectacular views of the Hudson (all thanks to Mr. John D. Rockefeller Jr.)

Evan and I embraced the rain and trecked the 150ish blocks (well, we took the A train) to Fort Tryon Park. The park was beautiful in the misty drizzle and we ambled through the dewey heather gardens immersing ourselves in the aromas of lavendar and lupin. The Cloisters itself is probably more spectacular when the weather is nicer, but the rain kept the tourists at bay, so for much of the day it felt very private and secluded. As we were leaving Evan looked at me and said "The Cloisters, what a gem." I completely agree.

When you go, don't miss the Merode Altarpiece.

Friday, June 19, 2009

sometimes i scribble poems in my notebook

here are two (i'm totally blowing up the blog today):

ask not of me your questions
dear scarecrow
you've been away
too many dog years long
tales told and tongues wagged.
The leash yanked
by too many masters
and shed
and brushed off
the carpet
that we bought
for half price
or maybe inherited
from Aunt Linda

I travel the tracks
they clack bang
rumbling with 10:30 hunger
so many people
don't see it happen
don't smell the perfume
don't know cologne.
If harmony's prize was finally won,
would it really be as nice
as checking the mail,
waiting for it to come?


What if
we could love
the way we hoped
not just
the way things happened:
justifiedly cruel
in its raving madness
of slamming doors
and throaty screams
dreaming of self
that can't be demolished
by running away,
that isn't afraid of
dark alleys,
of getting burnt
by 100 watt bulbs
swinging in the smoke.
What if hearts
didn't need covert cover
didn't speak in code
or throw their gang signs-
forboding and forbidden.
If we never waiting
with baited breath
for answers to questions ne'er asked
would/could we hope for the best
or still expect the worst?

Now I need advice

I'm just putting this out there in the ether--

I'm in the beginning stages of a quarter life crisis, and I'm trying to head it off at the pass.

I'll be 25 in 3 months and I still dont know what I want to do with my life. Now, I'm very good friends with some very smart people who also dont know what they want to do with their lives but we are all the kind of people that just take joy in being alive and experiencing the small things together.

Then I look around, and realize that as I walk to work everyday there are people younger than me walking by me on the street and they just look more successful, they seem more purposed. I have college friends who have been on Broadway, have worked for the President, have done things I've dreamt of doing and I'm not jealous per se I just dont know why I cant get myself together.

I was always encouraged to do something that made me happy with my life, and I've come to see that as bad advice. You should do something you're good at, or something that makes a lot of money, something that gives you freedom somehow, but happiness can be found in a really good tomato, or a lovely piece of string--you dont need it at work.

That said, I want to do something that makes peoples lives better. I dont care what it is really. Does anyone know what I'd be good at? Do I? and why do I have the sneaking sense that none of what I want will come from that pile of art supplies in my apartment. ugh.

My friendly advice to one unfriendly superintendant...

This is what I sent her...

Dear Ms. Lukas,

I am sure that you have received many e-mails of late pertaining to the very unfortunate incidents which surrounded the graduation of the class of 2009. The intent of this note is not to admonish you for what you have done, but to urge you to reconsider your decision and issue and immediate statement of apology to Justin Denney, his family and the entire district for the series of mistakes you have made in denying that young man his diploma.

To say it plainly, you don’t have the right to deny him his education because you weren't the only one to give it to him. My elementary school principal, Joyce Freeman, was fond of saying "it takes a village to raise a child," and she was right. It took Mr. Denney thirteen years of hard work and dedication to reach that moment of graduating from high school (far longer than you've been superintendant, I might add) and because of some foolish sense of pride or vanity you have denied him one of the most triumphant moments in his young life. Public education is bigger than one person. The successes of those students belong to the whole community, and if they make mistakes it is because we have not given them the tools to make good decisions.

However, we both know that Justin didn't make a mistake that day. We both know he was expressing his joy in a moment of triumph. Yes, there were rowdy students--there were antics at my high school graduation, I'm certain there were antics at yours--but the intent of school is not to raise an army of robots. I know for a fact that any silliness that happened at any of the graduations I’ve been in (or to) was just in good fun, an expression of camaraderie and friendship--one last hurrah. Those kids should be entitled to that, and if you embraced their joy instead of fostering their resentment, they would tell stories about you to their grandchildren. They would take that special relationship and spread it around the world and that would be your legacy. You haven't done that--but you still can. Please, I urge you, give the boy his diploma, be the adult here, and let’s put this in the long forgotten past.

Best of luck to you and the class of '09,

Jeb Knight
BEHS class of '02

I've since learned that Justin will get his diploma, thankfully. It's come to my understanding that the atmosphere in my old high school has gone from bad to worse and the administration has decided to blame and punish the students. This, of course, only fosters a greater feeling of resentment between students and educators and worsens an already poor learning environment. I feel for the students who want to excell but are lumped in with the lowest common denominator. I wont pretend to know how to solve it, and I dont hardly expect schools to raise our children for us, but there must be something very wrong for something as innapropriate as this to occur.

Wednesday, June 17, 2009

Bonny Eagle graduation critics will get a hearing | Portland Press Herald

Bonny Eagle graduation critics will get a hearing Portland Press Herald

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Did you see this nonsense? Sometimes I want to become an educator in order to prevent stuff like this, of course it's important to note that none of this was done by actual teachers. They're too busy working to have their heads this far up their asses.

I'll show you what I sent her later.

Wednesday, April 22, 2009

9 to 5 and others

I know it's been way too long (almost a month) since I wrote anything here. You've probably been thinking to yourselves, "why the heck would anyone have a blog that they dont write in. Gee, that really cheeses me off!" Well you're right. I apologize. Just know that I've been very busy and needed a little break. I'll be back on the blog train soon enough once my life quiets down a little and I'll be telling you all about it. Things like, the always funny gay-marriage debate, Waiting for Godot, delicious wines for spring, and other more interesting topics that I'll think up later.

Right now though, I had to jump on and tell you that I just saw 9 to 5 the musical and really loved it. Allison Janney really brings down the house and Stephanie J. Block and Meg Hiltey are so perfect. I hope this show wins Tonys, lots and lots of Tonys. Sure, there are things that aren't perfect, but few shows are--and even in the best ones it's possible to find flaws if you're really looking for it. Well, the evening started off with a treat...the one and only Dolly Parton came out into the house and addressed the crowd for 'Administrative Professionals Day' (which I guess includes me...). So there she was, little Dolly--talk about one less thing I need to do before I die. See Dolly Parton in real life. Check! Cross it off!  Of course the night would have been perfect if I got to meet Allison Janney, but alas,  I did not. Apparently she wasn't feeling well and dodged the autographs. I have to say honestly that I was very disapointed (having driven myself to distraction all day just thinking up what I was going to say to her) but Allison, if you're reading this I want you to know that I forgive you. I know it's tough adjusting to 8 shows a week, and you've got a lot on the line here. I get it, you need to put you first. Also, you didn't know I was there, not your mistake. My forgiveness is conditional however on us hanging out sometime with a bottle of wine discussing your work and why I think you're brilliant. Sound great? Super. Give me a ring.

Saturday, March 28, 2009

Marty on the Mountain

It's saturday afternoon and I'm working on a number of a projects, most important of which is the new website for Schoolhouse. Evan is watching a show on cats called Cats 101 (a not so subtle hint about our desperate need for a feline around the house) and the show happens to profile the Maine Coon (a personal favorite) so of course I tune in. It turns out that there is a maine coon living at the weather observatory station on the top of Mt. Washington named Marty. Marty! I exclaimed. Like the weatherman! (err...not really a weatherman as it turns out. watch the video) Martin Engstrom reported the conditions on Mt. Washington for nearly 40 years and was a personal favorite of my fathers because of his unique broadcasting style. Enough of this sentimental walk down memory lane however...over to Marty on the Mountain for the rest of the story. Marty...

Saturday, March 21, 2009

A strange confluence of events

I just watched this 2 hours documentary on TV about the stealing of Lincoln's body (which I highly recommend by the way, it was really excellently made) and was reminded of something that I read about in Theodore Roosevelt's biography. 

Roosevelt's father knew Lincoln and his mother was a southern belle so it's not surprising that young Teddy was made to watch (though knowing TR's interest in taxidermy he may have been eager to see) the slain President's funeral procession. In this photo of the funeral procession passing the corner of 14th street and Broadway, we see on the left the mansion of Cornelius Roosevelt and in the second floor are the figures of 6-year old Teddy and his brother Elliot. (as a side note, and rather sadly, that site is now a very modern building and a store called Shoe Mania, which Amanda and I have been in and do not recommend).

This is really the kind of history I love because while it's so simple and logical, it's thrilling to see how people's lives overlap, and how history actually unfolds--especially when those people happen to be Presidents of the United States. While I could go on and on about the strange events that surround Lincoln in life and in death, I'll just leave it with this one: Teddy lived at his father's house a few blocks away at 28 East 20th and literally a block east opposite Gramercy Park at number 16 lived Edwin Booth, one of the most famous actors in America and brother of Lincoln's assassin, John Wilkes Booth. That's quite a neighborhood.

Thursday, March 19, 2009

Broadway dims it's lights tonight

I just wanted to say a few words in acknowledgement of Natasha Richardson's passing. Like many people, I knew only her work as an actress and humanitarian but feel deeply saddened by her sudden death.

I first began to pay attention to Richardson when she assumed the role of Sally Bowles in the stunning revival Cabaret. That was one of the first Broadway show I ever really fell in love with, due in large part to Natasha's vibrant portrayl of Sally Bowles, and had a tremendous impact of the way I thought and felt about theatre. I felt a tremendous sense of pride when she took home the Tony that year for Best Actress in a Musical.

Bigger than her work on stage and film were her charitable contributions, most notably with amFAR, for which she was a brilliant spokesperson. It's a horrible feeling to know that someone who had so much potential and cared so deeply for so many could be killed so simply and so quickly. I know it makes me want to do more with my life, and give more love to the people around me. Lets all try that.

Monday, March 16, 2009

New Paintings

I just wanted to draw some attention to the fact that I've put new pictures of my paintings online.

the new albums I'd like to point out are my Blue Show and the Watercolors in Progress. The new watercolors are fabric and paper collaged and stretched onto canvas stretchers and then painted on, something new I'm developing. I'm interested to hear what everyone thinks.

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

I just got back from Hawai'i and I'm in a funk

It's true. It doesn't make sense but I am. I dont know why. I can't explain it.

I'll be sharing some choice photos of the Hawai'i vacation over the weekend when I'm not so freaking tired.

Some quick things that have nothing to do with going to Hawai'i:

We had a Dragon Plant that was named Gonzalo. He got pretty big and had 2 chutes so we decided to alleviate his over crowding and split him in half. Well, after about 3 weeks the surgery is going pretty well. We have one large plant that we've dubbed Don Gonzalo and then another smaller plant named Lil' G. We love them both. I dont know how I've lived this long without houseplants.

The sunset was really beautiful tonight when I was on my way home. I really think giving up the hour of sleep is worth it for the extra daylight.

We are re-painting our living room from a Teal color that is god-awful to a soothing color called Tennessee Haze, which is not a type of marijuana.

I want to get a new backpack. I am sick of carrying over the shoulder messenger bags. I hate them. If anyone has a recommendation for a sturdy yet city-wise backpack that will help me organize my life and has a place for my water-bottle, please let me know.

Tuesday, January 27, 2009

a Revolutionary Idea

I just saw a picture of a Civil War reinactment, and I had the strangest thought...

Since I had relatives in both the Civil and Revolutionary Wars, does that mean that somewhere, in the wilderness of Virginia and at every Fourth of July there are grown men spending their weekends prentending (more like assuming the shape of) my dead great-great-great grandfathers? The thought is both eerie and fascinating...I might like to meet these guys.

Monday, January 19, 2009

The Land of Milk and Paper (Originally published 4/8/2006)

Yet another of my previous blog posts, this one is perhaps my favorite. Enjoy!

So, as always, I'm writing from my post in the library. This very snotty woman came in earlier complaining that the NY Times she wanted wasn't on the rack. So I went to the rack, confirming that indeed the paper was not there, and informed the woman I didn't know where it was because, well, not only didn't I give a monkey turd, but in the world of libraries anything not in it's designated place is deemed "lost." I asked her if she was looking for something specific, an article, perhaps and she said that in fact she was not.

I'm not sure if you've ever met anyone like this woman, but she was very condescending. She asked "Do you think that the staff pick it up and read it, and dont put it back where it belongs or lose it?" "Periodicals aren't supposed to leave the library," I replied. "Yeah, but do you think thats what happens?" Her lipstick bothered me, her twitchy body language told me immediately that she was no good. "I really can't say ma'am (women hate it when you call them ma'am) but I would hope no staff member here would ever committ such a grevious offense."

My real beef with this lady is that she is hopelessly out of touch with reality and time. It's 2006, there is virtually no news on the planet that is inaccessable via the internet. Also, what kind of person can't go get their own new york times? they're $1...

Speaking of things that dont last long in new york (newspapers, dollars...) I found out why the Milk in NYC has a more recent expiration date than surrounding areas. Let me give some background for those that dont live in new york. See, on milk containers in the city there's a date of expiration lets say it's April 11, then below that date is another line that says "In NYC April 9." Well shit like that will keep a person up nights, just wondering if there's some sort of NY milk conspiracy.

Turns out that The NYC board of Health is pretty smart. They take into account the potential mishandling of "fluid milk" and have set stricter rules about milk sales. So the deal is that once a grocery store gets the milk, they have 96 hours to sell it (which gives us our shortened expiration date). It seems that the date on the bottle is less of an indicator of when the milk will be bad and more of a guide for how long the milk is saleable by law. Also turns out that milk is usually still good for several days after the expiration date

So it's not that the milk here is any worse than milk anywhere else, it's just that we have higher standards.

A Penny for the Old Guy (Originally Published 11/5/2005)

Another recycled post from my Myspace blog. Enjoy!

Want to know something wierd? I think something died in the elevator. It smells like vomit and soy sauce. Why I thought that particular image was important to record for posterity I dont know...

So today is Guy Fawkes day. That's right, guy fawkes day. Guy Fawkes was one of a group of men who conspired to blow up the houses of Parlaiment durring the opening of Parlaiment by the monarch James I. Fawkes and his conspirators were captured after one of the men tried to warn a fellow papist allie in Parlaiment. The men were hanged, drawn, and quartered after special permission was granted from the king. We derive our modern word "guy" from Guy Fawkes because every year on this day the british burn effigies of guy fawkes (we did it in American until the mid 18th Century). The effigies were commonly refered to as "an old guy" and the word came to be broadly applied to any grotesque male figure and then took the place of other slang (chap, bloke, etc.) coming to mean any male.

Please to remember 
The Fifth of November,
The poor old guy
With a hole in his stocking
A hole in his hat where his hair comse through.
If yoiu haven't got a penny a halfpenny will do,
If you haven't got a halfpenny
God bless you. 

Why did I waste your time with all this? Because I can.

I hate work (originally published 10/29/2005)

This is a post from over three years ago as several of the insuing posts will be. I've closed my Myspace account and decided to re-post the gems from my blog there. Enjoy!

I'm sitting here in the library, wasting my life playing with blog things:

So far I've:
Barely passed the U.S. citizenship test
Gotten a 115 on the IQ test, cause I can't do math
My 1920's name is Hardin Garfield, My pimp name is MC Dogg, My french name is Emmanuel Auger, my sexy brazillian name is Leandro Montenegro
I'm a butterfinger, a meatball pizza, and an eagle. I was a whale in a past life and a russian monk. Apparently I'm 29 years old.
Yeah, I'm bored.

Wednesday, January 7, 2009

It rained today in New York City

It rained today in New York City and I got to thinking. There are two types of people in this world. People who normal, person sized umbrellas and people who use giant 3 man, life raft sized, "golf" umbrellas. 

(For the purposes of this discussion, I'm going specifically address when these massive umbrellas are being used by an individual not by groups of 2 or more {for a tirade on people walking in groups or clusters, please stay tuned}) 

As I was saying, there are two types of people in this world. People who use umbrellas that are a  reasonable size, and those who hoist a circus tent every time it sprinkles. I'll be honest, I'm one of the former group. I use a small umbrella because I like that it fits in my bag, because I'm not fat, and because I have respect for my fellow man, their sanity, and the ability of my fellow new yorkers to commute around our wonderful city. Oh, and I'm neither scared nor allergic to water.

I would like to, for a moment, examine those who prefer umbrellas of the corpulent variety--henceforth known as Group B. As previously mentioned, the members of Group B can be divided into the following sub-categories; "The Dandy," "Waddlers," and "Republicans."
Allow me to elaborate:

The Dandy- Dandies carry large umbrellas partly to keep them dry and partly because they've seen too many episodes of "The Mod Squad." Sporting cane handled "walking stick" umbrellas, The Dandy is one of your best indicators that the forecast calls for rain as they are quick to twirl, point with, or lean on the umbrellas dutifully at their side. In addition to their massive rain guards taking up too much space on the sidewalk, they're also a neussance on the train, on the stairs, anywhere one might be almost impaled by an umbrella. With full knowlede of the danger they pose to society, these Dandies lurk; waiting to "accidentally" jab someone in the belly button vis-a-vis the Penguin from the Batman series.

Waddlers- The Waddlers are a sub-category barely in need of explanation. As their name suggests, these wide loads are in need of extra wide rain protection. My complaint isn't that people are fat, because I'm not one of those people who will judge you on your obesity. What I will judge you on, however, is how much you inconvenience me, and slowing my commute is a big-fat inconvenience. Dear Waddlers, if you must be out in the rain toting around your drive-thru awning to keep the rain out, please keep to the right and get out of my way.

Republicans- You're probably thinking to yourself "ok, what does he mean by can the way someone votes be tied to their umbrella choice...and why are we still talking about this? Is there a point here?" Well friends, welcome to my point. If you're aren't carrying a massive, oversized umbrella for the sake of fashion, or to cover your great big butt, then you must be carrying one because it keeps you dry. The problem here is that these republicans carry their big umbrellas at the expense of other people dryness. There is only a finite amount of room on the street, and your big umbrella takes up the same space as two of my small umbrellas. So, not only can I not get where I need to go--I'm getting wet doing it. If you're following along, you might make the argument that I could simply get a bigger umbrella myself, and push out the other inconsiderate big-brella carriers but what would that solve? We wouldn't be able to go anywhere given that scenario. No, the freedom to keep yourself dry using an umbrella of your choice must be tempered by a consideration for those who are wet. That's where The Republican goes wrong every time--they think that freedom is the answer to every problem, when freedom can be an incredibly destructive force. The only thing that can restrain the will of man is the love and consideration of his fellows.

Saturday, January 3, 2009

A great idea....

I think this is just fascinating...

read this article and tell me that this story wouldn't make the most amazing play? Musical even? If I were smarter I'd be writing the aforementioned play and not putting in on here for everyone to peruse, gawk at, and steal! But, alas, I'm a dope. Have at it kids, just remember who to call when you need a designer. I really don't have any interest in writing another play. It'd be like having a really dog that was really old and tired but still the best dog in the world and then getting a puppy. Realizing there are only a handful of people in the world that get what I'm talking about, let me clarify. I was part of a team that wrote a musical called The Silver Lining, and after it's first production it has sat in a drawer. I occasionally open the drawer and look at it, hoping that one day I'll miraculously find it finished or, even more preferable, a residuals check where the manuscript once was. 

(I actually just went over to open the drawer, so that I might accurately report on the status of the script-to-check change yet)

Anyway, read this article and confirm my's not just a sneaking suspicion anymore.