Too Hip

I recently purchased a bicycle. It's red. It's fast. I love it. Having spent a pretty penny on it, I splurged for a helmet. Aside from being the largest helmet in the entire world (I wear a size 7 3/4 fitted hat), this purchase is also potentially significant as it could prevent me from dying the event that I'm hit by a car again.

But I digress, yesterday I was riding up Main Street in Charlestown: I slowed as I approached a traffic light: From my right I heard a large group of pubes (14-16 year old boys) screaming, "Fag! You fag! You fuckin fag!"

"Wow!" I thought to myself. "I wonder who the hell these kids are yelling at?"

As I turned my head to the right my eyes met their collective gaze. Time slowed down....almost to a screeching halt. "NNiiiiiiiccccceeee hhhhhheeeeeelllllllmmmmmmmeeeeeeeettttttttt yyyyyyyyooooooooooouuuuuuuuu fffffffffffffaaaaaaaaaaaaggggggggg!"

They were yelling at me. :(

My cousin Tommy, 15 or 16 years old, recently went on a field trip with classmates also enrolled in a law class at his high school.

They were going to prison. If it had been announced, Tommy had been daydreaming, but perhaps the students were instructed not to wear shorts or skirts. As my uncle put it when he told the story, "Yah don't want the inmates to see Lenny and the twins and get all excited."

Regardless, Tommy didn't get the memo and showed up at the prison wearing shorts. He was told by prison personnel that he would not be allowed to go in.

"You'll have to go and sit in the bus."

Tommy obliged. He exited the building and walked through the parking lot over to the bus.


After knocking on the door, the bus driver opened it and Tommy began to step inside, at the same time explaining, "I have to wait on the bus cause I'm wearing shorts. They won't let you inside wearing shorts."

"Oh no! I can't be alone on the bus with one student. I'm not allowed."

Tommy moved no further. Instead, he headed back toward the prison. After being buzzed back into the building by a woman enclosed in bulletproof glass, he took a seat.

As he sat there....waiting....a couple of repairmen came into the room to change light bulbs. propped up on ladders, they went about their business. Until something outside caught their attention. Hurriedly, theg climbed down, folded their ladders and rushed from the room.

Naturally curious, Tommy stood up and walked over to the window. His eyes widened as he discovered what had driven the men from the room in such a hurry. There was a man running toward him carrying a handgun.

The man reached the window and demanded to be let in. The woman behind the glass responded, "I cannot let you in unless you check the gun."

"I'm not going to check the gun. Let me in the fucking building! You better let me in."

"I'm not letting you in with a gun!" she said as she slid a manila envelope under the glass and outside.

Reluctantly, he began to put the gun into the envelope. Before passing it back to the other side of the glass, a prison employee let herself into the building using her ID card. In an instant the man took the gun back out of the envelope and forced himself into the building behind her, no more than 15 feet from Tommy. As the woman wheeled around and saw Tommy standing in the room, frozen and wide-eyed, she screamed, "Ruuuuuuun! Ruuuuuuuuun!"

And run he did. Out the door and through the parking lot back to the bus.

Apparently, the gunman had recently been fired, his wife was leaving him, and the bank had foreclosed on his house. He had come to kill the warden.

How to Creep Out Co-workers

Respond to their emails in giant fuscia font and always include a :)

Circus

My boy Kevy Wevy Eugene Levy managed to find and DVR this Circus. Featuring music from the Who, Rolling Stones, Lennon, Eric Clapton, and a shrieking Yoko (who single-handedly ruins an otherwise sick jam featuring Lennon, Keith Richards, and Eric Clapton), there is also a faux interview pairing Mick Jagger and John Lennon, each speaking with American accents.

The interview is really weird. Really weird! Most of it was so strange it was actually difficult to follow. Eventually though, Mick asks John about a new project and band. "The Dirty somethings" Lennon responds.

To which Mick comments, "Sounds dirty John. Dreadfully dirty," while trying to hide a wry smile. It's really funny. A lot of the time things that were funny in the not so recent past, do not stand the test of time.

The entire show/special is set fittingly in a huge circus tent. The entire audience, perhaps totalling 100 people in all, is clad in bright yellow raincoats.





Someone kill Seth Davis and Clark Kellog. It's like these two have never been on TV before. They just yell over each other. CBS should be embarrassed.

My bracket's pretty much torched although 3 of my Final 4 teams remain intact. Good call on Georgia Tech.

Notes to Self/ Lovely Time of Year

Bright Eyes' new one.

The Shins' new one.

More John Zorn.

Arcade Fire's new one. Also, can't find my copy of Funeral. Have looked everywhere except the karoeke machine.

Explosions in the Sky's new one.

Slint (anyone?)

The Neutral Milk Hotel album I don't already have.

Keith Jarrett Solo Piano (Koln Concert)- my copy's gone bad.

New live Bisco album.

Is Of Montreal any good?

The other Illy B- Droppin the Needle

Lovely Time of Year

A lot of people get really excited about Spring Training. I don't. I get excited about opening day... which isn't really on my radar yet. I mean it's on my radar but the far corner. The best part about this time of year is without a doubt March Madness. Which is significant when you consider the weather in the Northeast is warming and the days have just grown substantially longer. Oh, and St. Patrick's day is on Saturday! This is also the time of year, or was in college, when chicks begin to show some skin again!

Admittedly, this year, I know less going into the tournament (and in filling out my brackets) than any other in recent memory. This perhaps has something to do with the monopoly Mussolini has established on our TV through a dizzying combination of strong-arming and whining. If Whitey Bulger were still alive and in business (wink wink), she could be an enormous asset.

But I digress; when faced with the choice between killing myself researching all 64 teams in the field or making flat out guesses, I usually take the middle road. We all know how great Greg Oden and Kevin Durant are. I know the Big East, ACC, and Big 12 are the best conferences. The Big Ten and Pac 10 are overrated. Gonzaga is no longer a Cinderella. Neither is Southern Illinois. Notre Dame is good for 2 tournament wins at best. Duke will not make it past the second round. While I have them taking VCU in the opening round, I won't lose sleep if they don't.

I've got 3 of my Final 4 etched in red ink . I'm still in deliberations with regard to Texas v. Georgetown in the Elite 8. I hate Kansas but they're definitely one of the four best teams in the country. Oden won't be dominant enough to get Ohio State past Texas A&M. Tentatively, I have Georgia Tech surprising everyone with a Final 4 birth.

I've printed 8 copies of the brackets though... Just in case I change my mind before Thursday.

Pete

I almost always like songs first out of an audible attraction that rarely has anything to do with meaning. Only later does meaning add to (or detract from) my opinion of music.

This was the case with Peter Gabriel's "Family Snapshot". Great song.

I was listening to it last week on my way home from work when it dawned on me: It's written from the perspective of an assasin in the moments just prior to an actual assasination. Immediately, as I drove accross the threshold of Charlestown, images of the Kennedy assasination [footage] flashed through my head.

It was really cool because on some level I found the whole thing shocking. Obscene almost. I kept thinking in between verses, "Holy shit! Holy shit!" as I turned up the volume. Then I called my dad to ask him if he knew about this.....He didn't either.

I've since discovered that Peter Gabriel wrote the song after having read the diary of Arthur Bremmer who shot the Governor of Alabama in 1972. The song seems to set Bremmer's/ the narrator's intentions on a grander scale, however, on someone more important......Nixon perhaps.

If you don't listen to Peter Gabriel; stop it.


Family Snapshot

The streets are lined with camera crews
Everywhere he goes is news
Today is different
Today is not the same
Today I make the action
Take snapshot into the light, snapshot into the light
I'm shooting into the light
Four miles down the cavalcade moves on
Driving into the sun
If I worked it out right
They won't see me or the gun
Two miles to go, they're clearing the road
The cheering has really begun
I've got my radioI can hear what's going on
I've been waiting for this
I have been waiting for thisAll you people in TV land
I will wake up your empty shellsPeak-time viewing blown in a flash
As I burn into your memory cells
'Cos I'm alive
They're coming 'round the corner with the bikers at the front
I'm wiping the sweat from my eyes-It's a matter of time-It's a matter of will
And the governor's car is not far behind
He's not the one I've got in mind
'Cos there he is-the man of the hour, standing in the limousine"
I don't really hate you-I don't care what you do
We were made for each other-Me and you
I want to be somebody-You were like that too
If you don't get given you learn to take
And I will take you.
"Holding my breath
Release the catch
And I let the bullet fly
All turned quiet-I have been here before
Lonely boy hiding behind the front door
Friends have all gone home
There's my toy gun on the floor
Come back Mum and Dad
You're growing apart
You know that I'm growing up sad
I need some attention
I shoot into the light

White Lies

*Please do try these at home, though with much discretion. The method of which you are about to read was developed and performed by a master.

So a friend of mine, who shall remain nameless, recently solicited my advice regarding excessive cuddling inflicted upon him by his girlfriend when he tries to vegg out in front of the television before bed.

We've all been on this boat. It doesn't take the post-sex malaise to make men crave a little space. Sometimes we just want to watch television sprawled out on the couch or floor without anyone touching us. Nothing personal. It's just the way it goes. We still love yah ladies, just not right now.

Previously, this friend had gone with a straightforward but unreliable approach: Gas. If you're lucky enough to have it, it's definitely a cuddling deterrent. But what if you don't? Do we, as men, have any other options? Must we spoon upon every whim?

My proposition:

Fake an injury. Or as I like to think about it, exhaggerate an injury. For non-thespians, it helps to exhaggerate an existing injury. This just makes the task easier. Once you're pretty comfortable with your routine, however, the world/couch is but a stage!

"Oww, my back!"

"My buddy punched me in the ribs. They're really bruised. I can't breath when you lay on me like this."

"I think I slept on my shoulder weird. You're too much."

You get the picture.

This approach has also worked, though with varying degrees of success, in avoiding housework.