Simpsons psychic?

Did the Simpsons episode on Sunday night really feature a fight between ice skaters and the Utah Jazz? And did that fight really air the night after the NBA brawl between Denver and New York?

I know these episodes are drawn up about a year in advance, but Sunday's show seemed pretty current --- or eerily premonitious?

Civil War Thoughts

Not that I'm a Civil War buff, but I'd like to raise an interesting theory.

Jefferson Davis is Bizarro Abe Lincoln. Look at the photo on the left. That's Jefferson Davis. Or is it a clean-shaven Abe Lincoln? Tough to tell.

Both men were reportedly cold and stand-offish, but I think Davis was a mythical villain whose reputation was doomed by history (the victor writes the history texts, after all).

Here's another thought. Would Davis have changed his title from President to something more fun (bizarro) like Count if the South had won? To me that's a great question that history, unfortunately, has left unanswered.

Quick Thoughts on a Cold Day

I knew it would happen sooner or later, but winter's finally here today (I know it starts on the 21st, but I'm telling you, it's here today). Still, despite the cold outside, I was wearing shorts and flip flops in my apartment this morning because it's about 85 inside. At least I have that going for me. Here's what's going on in my head today.

Intraday Lows: Today's forecast called for a high of 32 with a low of 20. Fine. Then why was the temperature 16 when I left my apartment? Shouldn't that be the new low?

Green Ice: If you've ever walked around New York City, I'm sure you've seen the infamous green water puddles all around the city, even on days with no rain. I certainly do not want to know what is in the green water, but today I did learn that green water makes green ice. At least I can eliminate my antifreeze theory for the green puddles.

Lost and Found: Even in the cold, I saw a coconut shell and husk in Washington Square Park this morning. I couldn't help but wonder how it got there. Maybe a swallow carried it. Well, it would have to be an African swallow because African swallows are larger. But then again, African swallows are non-migratory. So how did it get there?

Scaffolding: I just thought I'd pass along the update that the scaffolding is coming down. I feel bad for those guys out there working in the cold and wind today.

Fergie = She's All That: I've complained about Fergie before, but I have a new theory. I saw her on TV today performing in the Big in 2006 Awards or whatever on VH1. So, she joined the Black Eyed Peas, ruined the band and then went out on her own, and I found myself thinking, maybe Fergie is like the movie "She's All That." You know, Will.i.am and some friend make a bet to make a superstar out of one of the ugliest, least talented women in pop music. And somehow they succeeded. I just hope Will.i.am can sleep at night after unleashing this monstrosity on us. At this point, he's more like Dr. Frankenstein than a top-notch producer.

America is Lazy

Yes, I said it. Shocking. Now that we are the fattest nation on the planet, we might as well relish it.

That's why I love this new product from Black & Decker: electric scissors. What, we can't open and close our hands anymore?

I love how one online review makes this sound like the most groundbreaking product since sliced bread (which, incidentally is not sliced with scissors. At least Black & Decker already has an electric knife for this difficult task.). Here's a snippet from the review:

When it comes to cutting thin material like paper, cloth, carpet or tile, scissors are great; they are much easier to control than razor knives and far safer. The only problem is that they can be very hard on the hands if you have to cut more than a little bit. If only there was a way to get the accuracy and control of scissors without the Carpal Tunnel Syndrome that comes with them. This is exactly why the sultans of slice at Black and Decker came out with their 3.6 Volt Cordless Power Scissors, the ultimate in portable cutting technology.

Yes, the ultimate portable cutting technology. What is even funnier to me is the current advertising campaign. You see, last night on NBC, I saw an ad suggesting one purchase these electric scissors as a Christmas present. How did the commercial demonstrate this portable cutting technology? By cutting wrapping paper! This seems like a chicken-and-egg problem: wouldn't the scissors be MORE helpful before you wrapped your presents, rather than on Christmas day?

Also, who cuts tile with scissors?

Horrible Gmail Ads

I'm a little freaked out today--and it's not because of invasion of privacy.

I am a big Gmail fan. In fact, I just reached a major milestone: I've used 25% of my available storage. Usually, I never look at the targeted ads around my emails, but I know they are there (except for the Spam recipes that show up when I clear out my spam folder; I think those are hilarious. I wonder what the overlap is between Spam users and Internet users. My bet is not much.).

I just got an email from my Mom about flu shots, and some of the ads around the edge caught my eye. Trojan. Yes, Trojan condoms. And an ad for sex toys. Surrounding an email from my mom.

I wonder if I could hold Google liable for my broken computer screen.

A Great Weekend to Gain an Hour of Sleep (or, Goodbye Daylight Savings)

Wow, what a weekend, and I didn't even partake in any Halloween festivities. Okay, that last part is not entirely true. I did attend two Halloween parties, but for those who know me, my costume fell far short of my usual standards. I went as a married New Yorker. It was a stretch.

Even dressed as myself, I had a pretty good time this weekend. On Friday, I saw a band called Virginia Coalition at the Blue Note. My friend Charlie (who is a ying-yang version of Forrester: same look, no ego) grew up with the drummer, so he invited us to check out the show. The concert was in the late slot, scheduled to begin at 12:30. After cooking a nice dinner at home, my wife and I headed over to the club, using my huge umbrella to shield us from the rain. We got in line about midnight and met up with Charlie and his friends, and waited, and waited, and waited.

At 1:00 AM, we still hadn't gotten in the club, so the male portion of the group tried another route: we helped the band unload the truck, hoping that would get our group in. We were wrong. Unfortunately, we ran into Doogie Howser, Club Doorman. So we got back in line and waited for another 30 minutes. Finally, after my wife's arm was completely soaked, we got in and sat down to see Virginia Coalition. They were pretty good (they played a great jam band cover of "No Diggity"), and they played a long show, so we didn't get home until after four. What's really weird is that of all the tiny little touring bands in the country, we had already seen Virginia Coalition -- in Tempe last year when the band opened for G. Love. Let's see, I've never seen the Stones or Dylan, I've only seen Radiohead and the Roots once, and now I've seen some random college band from Virginia twice? That doesn't make sense.

After sleeping in on Saturday, we walked around the neighborhood, picking up a few items at the new Brooklyn Industries (I finally own a sweatshirt). Then, after a great nap, we went to a Halloween party at one of our friend's apartments. She's from ASU, goes to fashion school and lives with two gay guys -- so not only was I probably the only straight guy there (with the exception of the jerk in the turtleneck and blazer), but I was probably the worst dressed guy in the room (again, with the exception of the jerk in the turtleneck and blazer).

After enjoying the plentiful appetizer and strong drinks, we walked out into the cold, bought two large keg cans of Heineken and headed down to Pier 40 to watch . . .

(are you ready for it?)


(really ready?)


RUGBY! Yes, Stern has a rugby team, though you wouldn't have known it from the way the team got crushed by Columbia's rugby team. There we were, standing on a soaking wet fake field on a pier, with the temperature falling and a quite a strong wind. Good thing someone brought some Knob Creek to warm us up. Anyway, rugby is a weird sport. It's sort of a combination of olde time football, youth soccer, smear the queer and cheerleading. Yes, cheerleading. On throw ins, the players get into four small groups and lift up guys by their shorts. I found the whole thing fascinating, mainly because even the players couldn't explain the rules to me.

After the match finished, we jumped in a cab and headed uptown, to the upper west side, to another Halloween party -- one hosted by one of my wife's friends from high school. In fact, true to form out came the high school yearbook. Ah, nothing like good friends, good drinks and the old high school yearbook on a Halloween.

Next year I'm dressing up.

Broncos, Baby

Two quick observations at halftime of week 5's Monday Night game

--Good thing the announcing crew had a guest in the booth during the first half. As much as I've complained about Tirico, Kornheiser and Theisman, I think they needed someone else in the booth, since the halftime score was just 3-3. And they had the guy who plays Mike Delfino on Desperate Housewives in the booth. He was pretty funny. Best line:

Actor who plays Mike: "There's this fitness trek, and these people run, kayak, or bike for 450 miles through the desert."

Joe Theisman: "They kayak through the desert?"

Actor: "That's the tough part."

--How 'bout those Bears. I'm glad I married into this. 5-0, with two blow outs. The last three teams to score 50 consecutive points (over two games, shutting out opponents over the stretch) all won the Super Bowl, including those 1985 Bears. These Bears have an easy schedule ahead of them, so maybe they can take some time to write a better rap song.

Update: The Monstrosity Across the Street

So here's what they've been building outside my window. I have no clue how long it will be here. At least it's not my nice rooftop deck that they are using.

First, they had to build a platform to get up to the fifth-floor rooftop balcony.


























Then, they added another seven floors of scaffolding.


























Finally, they added a little workspace up at the top, along with a really fancy staircase to get up there. You really have to see them use the bucket and pulley to get gear up to the top floor.

Like a fruit, that's ripe for the picking

This is what music videos should look like. I don't need to see your cars, or your grills, or your girls, or your band all made up in mascara, or you leaning into the camera singing, or anything else that has become so stereotypical.

Just give me puppets and a song about a threesome. That is what it is about, right?





I met you at JC Penny
I think your nametag said Jenny
I could step to you
With a fresh pack of gum
If somehow I knew you were looking for some
(oh no!)
Like a fruit that's ripe for the picking'
I wouldn't do you like that
Zankou Chicken
'Cause only you got a thing
That I just got to get with
I just got to get
Get with you
And you know what we're gonna do
I wanna get with you (Oh girl)
And your sister
I think her name is Debra
I wanna get with you (Only you girl)
And your sister
I think her name is Debra
Girl, I only wanna be down with you
'Cause you got something
That I just got to get with
I'll pick you up late at night after work
I said lady, Step inside my Hyundai
I'm gonna take up to Glendale
Yeah
I'm gonna take you for a feel good meal
'Cause when our eyes did meet
Girl, you know I was packing' heat
Ain't no use in wasting no time?
Getting to know each other
You know the deal
'Cause only you got a thing
That I just got to get with
Got to get with
I just got to get with you girl
I wanna get with you (Only you Girl)
And your sister
I think her name is Debra
I wanna get with you (Girl yeah)
And your sister
I think her name is Debra (Ohhhh)
(Come on)
Oh lovely lady
Girl you drive me crazy
Crazy! (Oh girl)
And you sister
Debra
Yeah, you're driving me crazy
Crazy (Oh)
Yeah
I got a little bit of sympathy for you girl

Mindblowing

I originally wanted to title this post, "Fuck N.G." because he saw this guy, along with Del (a/k/a Del the Funky Homosapien, Deltron) last night, but that would have made the post about N.G.

Instead, this should be about Mike Relm.

Watch.

How stupid is America?

Pretty stupid. At least that's what a current batch of commercials would have me believe. For example, one new car commercial shows its new model morphing into a stylized cartoon car that speeds around town, even driving upside down in a tunnel. Small print at the bottom of the ad tells the viewer that the ad is a "fictionalization." Really? I thought we had invented the upside-down driving technology.

The new Beck's beer commercial shows us a variety of statistics, including that the average human being spends (these are from my memory and not likely to be correct) 1.73% of their life checking themselves out, and 0.14% watching things drip. Again, the viewer is told "all statistics made up."

Really, the least common denominator keeps getting lower.

Other things that are bothering me right now:

-The workers across the street from me. Right across the street, there's a balcony, with another 10 stories above it. Anyway, on the balcony right now is a bunch of scaffolding that goes up another 10 stories. I guess the penthouse is remodeling. While it is probably worse for the people who own that balcony, I don't like having people looking in my apartment all day, nor the fact that they begin work about 30 minutes before my alarm goes off. My apartment also smells like turpentine during the day.

-Catalogs. Whether it's the new address or the increase in Internet shopping, we are getting tons of catalogs. They all suck.

-An annoying girl in my marketing class. She's a Southern Belle. She's also clueless and likes to share her opinions, whether they are about Wal-Mart (something we've not even covered in that class) or her uncle's pet rock from the 1970s.

-Monday Night Football on ESPN. With my wife as the color announcer, I think we could announce a better game. The entire team misses some very obvious analysis. Despite his voice, Kornheiser made some good points in the first few games---then dropped off the planet with the last two games. I might watch the Broncos MNF game on mute this week.

-Finding a restaurant in New York. There's too many, and then there's not enough at the same time. Too many places to choose from, but not enough good, cheap, comfortable places. I miss Pita Jungle and Oregano's.

-Mets fans.

-Yankees fans. But not as much as Mets fans. I guess this is what a 10-year playoff drought does.

The B in B-School

Oh, that ever impressive MBA. Some call it Business School, while others resort to the obnoxious shorthand B-School. So far, it's more social and less academic than I thought it would be (though I am still early on in the process. Hopefully, it changes, but my gut feeling is that it gets easier). Therefore, I don't think "business" really applies anymore, so maybe the B-School name is more appropriate (the business is dropped). Should anyone care whether someone graduated from B-School? And, more importantly, what does this mythic B stand for?

The B could stand for business, but in a different way. The main business I've seen here is corporate presentations and events. Although after one late night during pre-term, a couple was apparently takin' care of business in one of the classrooms.

The B could also stand for business casual attire, which in itself is one of the worst fashion trends ever.*** Though not usually required, at least half the class on any given day is dressed business casual (recruiting events and corporate presentations notwithstanding). My early opinion is that women have business casual figured out; men do not--although men have less to work with (and I mean clothes, not anything else). But that something else leads me to the next B: babes.

Though still a minority of the class (around 40% but increasing), the women in business school are generally very attractive, much more so than the surrounding population. If these women end up sleeping their way to the top, they may actually know what to do when they get there. For a subset of this population, B stands for Bitch, as there are some strong-willed females in this class who are used to getting their way, and they scream gender bias if something goes against them. Not that there's anything wrong with that, though.

Still, based on my observations, I think the real meaning of B-School is twofold: Beer and B's. As I've mentioned before, drinking is a big part of B-School, and learning to control yourself while intoxicated around recruiters, professors and other professionals is one of the key skills learned in B-School. As for the B's, it's self explanatory, really. My school has a grade non-disclosure policy and a partial grade distribution curve. We don't have to tell anyone about our grades (or we don't necessarily have to tell the truth), and only 35% of any class gets an A. From what I've heard, everyone--and I mean everyone--gets a B in B-School.

So much for a normal distribution.

*** Side note on business casual: This is absolutely the worst style of dress for men. For women, it's not so bad, since they usually interpret it to mean business formal, and they look good in the process. Plus they have more options. Biz-casual for men means slacks and a dress shirt, unbuttoned at the top. Two problems here. First, some guys insist on wearing pleated pants. I don't know why. But I do know that no one should wear pleats. Second, we are wearing dress shirts--that by their design are meant to be worn buttoned up--with the top button (or more) undone, and then rolling up the sleeves, both of which change the line of the shirt. And as a sub-problem to the second issue, 90% (note: statistics are made up) of men wear some sort of blue dress shirt, so we look like an army of accountants in ill-fitting uniforms. Therefore, women have more options, wear it better, and show off their other assets. I'm surprised more women don't attend B-School.

Today Was the Day . . .

I've heard that the city can get to you, and today was the day for me. A beautiful Indian summer day, and I come home more frustrated than I've been since we moved here. It started building up yesterday, when I under-prepped for an interview and then could not find a place to watch the Broncos game, and ended today, when I spent two hours in a Verizon store getting a new phone.

Yesterday, the football gods clearly did not want me to see the Broncos play (and that might have been a good thing, considering how they played). I was on campus from 4:30 until 6, but there were still two quarters left. A small group of us went to Off the Wagon, which was way too packed to get a seat, but in retrospect we should have just stayed and waited for something to open up. Not finding a spot, we walked a few blocks to Down the Hatch, which I know for a fact has NFL Sunday Ticket. We ran into the same problem there; namely, no seats (though the bar weirdly wasn't crowded). We were sure we could find something else, so we went next door to the Four Faced Liar, which had just one small TV tuned into the Jets game. A big problem I've encountered here is that most bars don't have the Sunday Ticket package so they only show network games. Since it is highly unlikely the Broncos will be the regional game out here, sports bars are my only hope.

The unintelligible bartender at the Four Faced Liar recommended Town Tavern, which was back over towards Off the Wagon. We get there (by this time we've wasted a whole quarter walking around) and find a table in front of the one small TV showing the Broncos-Chiefs (nevermind the two plasmas showing the Jets game, neither of which was being watched intently). Shortly, we encountered two huge problems that one should never encounter at a sports bar. First, the place was running out of beer. When we got there, five of eight taps were dry, leaving us Bud Light, Blue Moon and Guinness. Well, there wasn't much Guinness left, either, considering that we got the last two pints. Then--and this was nearly the dealbreaker--a large black box appeared on the TV, blocking out nearly half the screen. I ended up watching just the top of the end of the game. At least the helmets looked okay, and at least the bar fixed the problem before overtime (and, I guess, at least we got a free beer out of complaining, because I wasn't about to pay for Blue Moon).

Then, after a horrible night's sleep, I went to class this morning. Between my two classes, I went to a Verizon store because my phone has been acting like a half retarded mental patient for the last few weeks. I dropped the phone off with a service technician, who said the software was outdated (of course, there's always that small chance all data on the phone would be lost). Tired and frustrated with my phone, I agreed, and went back to campus. Of course, my phone became the statistic, and I lost all my data--the phone won't even boot up now. After arguing with the tech and finally talking to a manager, I get the store to agree to allow me to buy a phone with the rebates, instead of full retail price. I pick out a phone that I'm not really excited with (seriously, the selection at Verizon sucks. Where are all those cool phones I see?), and then the sales guy disappears for 15 minutes. When he gets back, he walks me over to customer service, where I have to wait again just to pay for the phone, even though the sales rep is at a kiosk with a register.

Total time in store: 10 minutes to drop off phone, 85 minutes to buy new phone
Total people I had to talk to: 7
Total people who actually helped me: 1 (the nice guy in the front of the store greeting people)

So, if you are someone I call regularly, please call me or email me your number. Because I don't have it anymore.

My wife has been planning a post on the customer service out here, so I don't want to steal too many of her examples but I will explain the service in one word: NONEXISTENT. I was even talking to someone who thought there was good customer service in the city. It turns out she's never lived anywhere else. The service here is horrendous.


Here are some other things I've been thinking about lately (in no particular order):

--The new iTunes rocks. I just spent the better part of 4 days searching for album art for all my cds, even though I don't even have a video iPod that displays album art (I hope my wife appreciates this on her iPod). Anyway, the jukebox mode, where you can shuffle through album covers, is awesome. I didn't realize how much I missed shuffling through cd or album covers.

--Pluto. Not the whole planet/not a planet argument. The dog. As in Mickey Mouse's dog. Does anyone else think it's weird that a mouse has a dog?

--I feel bad for ASU quarterbacks in the NFL. First, we have Jake Plummer, who has led the Broncos, a team that was supposed to have one of the best offenses in the league, to just 9 points in the first two games, with no touchdowns. Second, poor Andrew Walter. He's a second-year backup quarterback for the Raiders, and their quarterback situation is so bad, he had to play most of the game yesterday. No TDs, 3 interceptions, and one intentional grounding penalty in the end zone, which drew a penalty and an automatic safety.

--Even though I supposedly live in "the city that never sleeps" (it does), I find myself missing the bar scene in Scottsdale. Maybe it is my familiarity with Scottsdale, but I found the lounges, bars and clubs there to be much more enjoyable. Now that's not to say we haven't found some amazing places here (we have), but we've encountered way more clubs that either had a bad crowd, or got too crowded, or had no crowd, or that played horrible music, or that run out of beer, or that have no distinguishing feature at all. There's no mid-level lounge scene here (like Suede, Pussycat, Kazimierz, or the bar at the Mondrian). It's either high end (expensive) or a dive.

--How much are milk and paper towels? I just paid $5.29 for a half gallon of milk, and $16.75 for a six-pack of paper towels. And don't get me started on the beer. The closest place to buy beer is one of the numerous delis (the grocery stores are a bit more of a walk), and they price the beer by the bottle, at $1.50 to $2.00. If you want a six-pack, you're paying $12. End of story.

MBA Mistakes

Today was just the second day of classes, and I've already skipped a class.

I'm actually supposed to be in a class, Accounting and Financial Statement Analysis, right now. However, this morning I was running late and read my schedule wrong, so I went to the 9:00 class instead (and missed my Statistics class). We take accounting with our Blocks, which is a group of 70 people with whom I've spent a bunch of time already. My first clue was the fact that I didn't recognize anyone in the classroom. My second clue was when I checked my schedule and saw that my next class was also Accounting. Oops. At least my mistake gave me a free afternoon on a beautiful late summer day; I don't know how many more of those--both the free afternoons and the beautiful days--there will be.

Also, even though I've already told half of my regular readers, I saw both Natalie Portman and Phillip Seymour Hoffman today . . .

Where my WASPs at?

I know it's a commercial, but this had me laughing this morning --- especially since I've seen people walking around NY dressed like this (which I used to think was a joke).

One-man conspiracy theories

Fidel Castro is ailing, and his condition is "a state secret." He has transferred his power to his brother, Raul, the country's defense minister, though the media and US analysts speculate that Fidel is unlikely to return to power.

I know he's been ailing for a few years. However, does anyone else find the timing of this suspicious? It comes just a few weeks after the announcement of huge deep-water oil reserves surrounding Cuba, and politicians have been talking about lifting the embargo on Cuba--which would look highly opportunistic, given the embargo has had relatively no economic impact on Cuba (they are doing fine without us; besides, even without the embargo, I think Cuba would be in about the same position due to Castro).

But now, Fidel's passing would give the US an easy way to repeal the embargo and save face. It's all too easy, isn't it?

Nexus of the universe, East Village, New York



Jerry: Well what street are you on?
Kramer: I'm on 1st and 1st...how can the same street intersect with itself....I must be at the nexus of the universe!
Jerry: ..just wait there, I'll pick you up..and Kramer, stay alive! No matter what occurs, I will find you!!
Kramer: AHH!

Catching up (and my 100th post)

It's been a busy, busy week, ladies and gentlemen. We've hosted my wife's brother in our apartment for a week. He left today, and now her sister is coming for a week, arriving tomorrow. I've also been reading up some research reports, getting ready for . . .


(wait for it)


(wait for it)


. . . My last day of work! I'm doing three days of meetings this week, mainly with clients that are up for renewal. After that, I'm done: my wife and I will both be officially unemployed in the most expensive city in the country (however, there's a good chance she could land a job offer in the next three days; fingers crossed). My short-term goal is making it through the next three days; we've got six or seven meetings scheduled each day, and the mercury is supposed to reach 100 on Tuesday and Wednesday. At least we are going to Greenwich on Tuesday, so hopefully the temperature will be cooler. Otherwise, it will be an unhappy Diabolical running around the city in my dark suit. Also, I lost all my ties during my move, so my professional wardrobe is seriously limited these days; I may have to wear the same tie each day.

However, it was a very happy Diabolical last night. After a delicious and relatively inexpensive dinner at 'Ino (worth the wait, except for the air conditioner that kept spitting on us), we hit up what might be my favorite bar in the city so far, a speakeasy called the Little Branch (here's a good link too). We slipped in to a cozy booth and obeyed the rules. The cocktails were perfect, served with a large block of hand-picked ice that melted slowly and kept the drink chilled without watering it out. The consensus favorite was the Silver Lining, but the Gold Rush and Gin-Gin Mule were equally delicious, in my opinion.

We then hopped a cab to the East Village to see a friend of a friend's band at Mo's. Here, there were no rules, so the wife and her friend had the opportunity to star-fuck Adam Brody.

Recent movie pitches

My Super Ex-Girlfriend

"So, Warner Brothers has a super hero movie. We need to get one"

"There's not enough time."

"Universal has a romantic comedy with Vince Vaughn and Jennifer Anisten."

"It's too late; all we can get is Luke Wilson."

"I've got it--we do a romantic super hero comedy! It will kill!"

Snakes on a Plane

[scene: two writers pitching a movie. Studio exec rejects first 8 ideas.]

"So, we've got one other idea."

"You've got 30 seconds."

"Okay then, what about an action movie about snakes."

"But that's been done before."

"Yeah, but these snakes aren't on the ground, they are in the sky."

"In the sky--in a plane."

"Yeah, snakes on a plane."

"Yeah, there are snakes on this plane--think Anaconda meets Air Force One.

"And both of those grossed, like, $200 million each."

"And we've got Samuel L. Jackson signed on, too."

Done.

We found ourselves . . .

in a bit of a rainstorm last night and decided to walk home.

Lost

Yesterday, in the meatpacking district, I came to a fork in the road. I didn't know which way to go.

Recut into a whole new movie

I actually pay attention to commercials. I don't know why; maybe because they actually bother me. I notice things. Why does each new drug sound exactly like the disease it is treating? Why is that damn credit score guy ("I'm thinking of a number . . . It's your credit score!) sound so freakin' excited? Why is Rachel Harris in every commercial?

What I've noticed recently--and actually been highly amused by, in fact--is the difference between movie promos: those cut for the initial premiere and those re-cut for the DVD release. In most cases, the re-cut makes it look like a whole new movie. Did the production company learn when the original release bombed? For example, Failure to Launch, with Matthew McConaughey, looked like a decent date movie during the initial trailers (they played up the manly, fun, Terry Bradshaw angle to get men to buy in). However, the DVD came out, and the re-cuts clearly played up to the chick flick angle. Maybe the movie didn't put that many men into theater seats.

Usually, I think the re-cut is a decent and reflects a whole new way to market the movie (or its completely random and pretty effin funny). I just watched the re-cut DVD commercial for Bench Warmers. I have to hand it to those guys. I didn't think they could do it, but they actually took a horrible movie and made it look even worse. When I saw the initial previews, I was thinking to myself, I would watch this on a plane or on a weekday afternoon with nothing else on. But now, I'm skipping the movie completely.

I just hope my friend Gil didn't do this re-cut.

Long Beach . . . not that far but a world away

The wife and I and two friends escaped the heat today by taking the LIRR from Penn Station out to Long Beach. There, we joined the crowds paying $7 per person to get onto the beach and clear out our own little four foot by six foot area. I've never seen a beach so crowded--it was a chore to walk between the towels to get into the water. We left a two-foot gap between the next towel over, and that even filled up within minutes.

Still, the beach was a relief after the ride out there. I'm becoming more sympathetic to these rants about riders on the LIRR. The girl in the seat directly behind mine, or actually in front, because I was sitting backwards, talked about the most inane subjects the entire ride, getting progressively louder as the ride went on.

"I mean, I'm a good test taker, but I was so nervous about my driver's test."
"I didn't even study for the GRE, but I got a really good score, good enough to get me into NYU or Loyola, but I didn't go."
"I want to get an MBA, but I don't want to take the GMAT because I'm not good at math. Wait, that's not true. I don't want to take the GMAT because I actually want to go to law school."
"I want to study law at an international school for one year, to get all the legal shit out of the way."
"I have a passion for my JD."
"I sent my passport application in last week, and I know I'll get my passport next Thursday, so I'm not worried."
"The last time I got my passport, in the 90s, I paid like $80. This time I paid $100 and got it expedited, so I know it will come next week."
"I don't know about three years of law school. Maybe I'll go part time. It's only $14,000 per year and I can totally afford that, plus sock away a little extra cash."
"Do you like my new cell phone? What do you mean you've seen it before. It's brand new."
"My review is next week, and I think I'm due for a big raise. And I mean big. I think I could even crack $100,000, which is like doubling my salary."
"Should I tell my boss I want to move to California?"
"How much did houses cost in the 1980s? I mean nice houses? Did any house cost more than $1 million? I should have bought a house when I was really young."

And so it went, on and on, for an hour. I had to put my iPod on halfway through, and I could still hear her, interrupting my Stairway to Heaven.

What happened to the generation gap?

I think the Generation Gap closed over the years. What was a small problem during the 50s grew into a giant chasm in the late 60s and early 70s, eventually expanding into a cultural revolution as well. However, momentum slowed during the 80s and 90s, as generation X, Y and Z melded together. We now have the advent of hip parents and grey-haired indie hipsters.

However, with technology, I think there is even more than a generation gap. I think there is a intra-generation gap as well. I perceive a big difference in behavior and information level between me and those five or ten years younger than me, and I can only imagine the gap between these kids and their parents. Digital-only Myspace friends, instant messaging, text dating . . . I am baffled by these things. I use Myspace for the same thing as everyone else: digitally stalking old friends and girlfriends.

World Cup Street Fighter

Wait for E. Honda's appearance . . . I'm just disappointed he didn't use his hundred hand slap.

Shoe salesman, used car salesman, gym membership salesman

So goes the hierarchy of employment options. Joining a gym is such a hassle. We went to Crunch and told the guy we worked out at a Bally's in Arizona. He then proceeded to show me how to use every machine: "Um, this is a bench, you can use it for bench press, or other presses, or even press free weights."

I went to New York Sports Club next and got a really quick tour. What was interesting is that the initiation fee was $400 but the guy could cut it to $150. Why not just tell me that the fee is $150? And his excuse every time? "I'd give you a bigger discount, but the computer won't let me."

Equinox, however, was nice. The girl who showed us around was very nice, more concerned friend than saleswoman. The facility is amazing. It's about 50% more per month, but I think it might be worth it to work out in a gym so nice--so nice in fact that I might even shower and shave there, since my bathroom is so small in my apartment.

Diabolical H. Griswold

I'm a Griswold. There, I said it. It's taken three years and about $10,000 in psychiatric fees to get to this point (or just a recent viewing of National Lampoons Vacation with my wife). I've heard a few of the jokes before--the thousands of Christmas lights on the house being the most common--but after recently watching three of the Vacation movies (the original, European and Christmas, which for some mysterious reason was on TV in April), I realized how eerily similar my childhood was to growing up Griswold.

First, there's the father figures, Clark W. Griswold and my father. Except for the mustache and the fact that Clark dealt with his thinning hair much better than my father did, Clark and my father appear physically similar, especially in the original Vacation movie. In fact, my dad still looks like Clark circa Vacation: poor combover, extremely short shorts, ambiguously patterned short-sleeve button-up shirts, and early 80s baseball hats with an unusually high bridge. My mom and Ellen are both small, blonde women with infinite patience.

Then, there were the family trips we took. We drove to Oregon to visit the family nearly every summer; there were also road trips through Vegas, northern California and to Disneyland (luckily, we flew to Disneyworld, although we didn't actually get to go to Disneyworld because it wasn't educational. So we went to Epcot. Epcot sucks.). Our vehicle of choice for these early trips was a wood-paneled Jeep Cherokee, not too dissimilar from the station wagon. Instead of Europe, we did Mexico, which presented its own unique situations.

Finally, there are the Vacation circumstances and goings-on that nearly mirror some of my family trips. For example, in Vacation, Clark jumps the car off a ledge and is taken by the repair shop for all his money. For gas and other expenses, he is forced to dip into Audrey's babysitting money. Clark's credit cards wouldn't work because Ellen's had been stolen and they called in to cancel them. When driving from Oregon to northern California, my mom lost her purse and my dad cancelled all the cards, including his. Luckily, my sister had made about $200 selling fruit and lemonade at the beach, and we were able to find a place to stay. Instead of stealing money from a hotel at the Grand Canyon, I think we walked out on a meal or something (my dad was always into the dine and dash).

There are the family road trips to the middle of nowhere. The zany relatives showing up at random times. The flirting with sales women (and the harassing of waitresses, which might be unique to my dad). Again, the Christmas lights--though I did most of the legwork on that while Russ somehow lucked out and stayed inside. The bickering with my sister. The unique cultural experiences on our international trips ("When in Rome, my good man"). The trips to Vegas where my dad played Keno at breakfast. My sister getting in trouble for gambling underage, way underage, when she was 10. My dad and Clark eventually losing their minds in some sort of temporary insanity, when all they wanted to do was show their families a good time. The Griswolds faced temptation and renewed their vows. My parents renewed their vows, too, though I can't vouch for the other part.

In some ways, I think my dad exceeds the zaniness of Clark Griswold. He is always yelling for someone to come help, even when we are feet away--much like Clark's constant "Russ?!". However, he will yell for anyone, not just his son. On the way to Wallyworld, the family stays at a motel (the one where Clark jumps in a pool with Christie Brinkley). Russ and Aubrey got their own room, which would have been unprecedented in my family. On our family's trip to Disneyland, my sister did get her own room--except it was a rollaway bed in a walk-in closet!

To capture these moments and more, I've started a side blog. I know, ridiculous, I barely blog on this page as it is. But you'll see. You'll all see. Give me a few days and start checking Tales of the Ricker. I'll make it worth your while.

Random Thought

Why are earrings called earrings, even though they don't always go around the ear? Shouldn't they be ear studs?

Bored in Raleigh-Durham

I'm sitting in an airport in Raleigh-Durham after going to a close friend's wedding in Wrightsville Beach, North Carolina. It's weird to think that I'm flying home to New York; I had the same feeling last week when I flew back from a business trip in Boston. Despite this, I am a big fan of the east coast so far.

Fashion is definitely different here - besides the cutting edge trends, I am amazed by how many people look like they stepped out of a J. Crew or LL Bean catalog. In the city, sandals and shorts label you as a tourist, but it is so hot and humid right now I don't really care. I did get to rock the seersucker jacket to the wedding, and the Southern girls loved the look.

We are finally getting the bulk of our furniture on Wednesday, which is good because I'm tired of sitting in our dining room chairs and looking at the TV on the floor. Our bed was delivered last Thursday right before we left. Actually, the bed came on Tuesday, but there was no way we could get it into the building. Instead of returning the bed (we spent days looking for it and it was the only one we liked), we called the store and they recommended an interesting service. For about 4X more than the normal delivery fee, this guy rolled back the upholstery on the bed and CUT THE FRAME IN HALF. After lugging it up the stairs and barely making it through our doorways, he reassembled and reupholstered the whole thing in our bedroom. I hope our couches will make it in.

More pics and thoughts to come later . . .

Cross Country Snapshot

I’m currently sitting on the floor in my apartment, watching the World Cup on my TV, which is also on the floor. We have a mattress and a wine rack and no other furniture. I’ve been arguing with Time Warner cable about my high speed internet; apparently, through their modem, I can only have one computer registered online. It’s taken them four days (and counting) to load the location of my modem in their system. Cable here does have one advantage, however: I’ve discovered the joy of On Demand. Last night we caught up on some Sopranos and Big Love that we had missed during our last months in Arizona.

We left Arizona last Monday, spending about four days on the road. We stopped in beautiful Amarillo, Texas the first night, pulling in about 10:15 PM and listening to some outlaw country on Sirius (side note: the last song we heard was “You Put the Dick in Dixie,” which doesn’t strike me as classic country). With most restaurants closing at 10:00, we settled in to the local Hooters. It was the wife’s first Hooters experience, and it was disappointing (though I did have to apply for a drinking membership at the bar).

Day two we trekked to Memphis and stopped in time for dinner—by far the best night of the trip. Navigating the truck downtown, we found an amazing place for ribs and a blues bar on Beale Street. On Cat Daddy’s recommendation, we tried to find the Hollywood but it was closed. After a great second night (and a very scenic drive through Tennessee and North Carolina), we ended up in Troutville, Virginia, which is next to Roanoke. I don’t recommend either town.

The drive was easy until we made it to New Jersey—it took us over two hours to get under the Hudson from Jersey City into New York. Two hours and two movers later, we were settling in and eating some pizza.

Here are some other random thoughts from the drive and my first week here:

-Some one needs to open a motel called the Hodge Podge Auto Lodge and hire a guy named Roger to work the desk. I can hear it now: “Hodge Podge Auto Lodge, this is Rodge.”
-Tennessee is a very cool state. Northern Texas and Oklahoma, not so much.
-I will be paying as much to store my bike here as I would be paying to store my car in Arizona. Haircuts are also twice as much, unless you go to a chop shop in Brooklyn or the Lower East Side.
-Soccer is a great spectator sport to watch, especially in a pub. And since I’m not working, I’ve been tuning in to the 9 AM game as I’m drinking my coffee. Germany’s 90th minute goal and England’s two late goals, plus Australia’s late comeback against Japan, were all great games to watch. The U.S.-Czech Republic game was not so good, although it is easy to see why the Czechs are rated number two in the world—the first header by Jan Koller was beauty.
-So far, I’ve called the late goals by Sweden (in the Paraguay game) and England (in the Trinidad game) about 30 seconds before they happened. During the Germany-Poland game, I told Christy that stoppage time goals were especially painful, about two minutes before Germany scored to win. Really, I did.
-I think bartenders here try to take advantage of customers, at least more so than in other cities. Twice, I’ve ordered a second round of drinks and paid a different, higher price. Another time, the total didn’t match the prices listed on the menu. The bartender said he was bad at math. Uh huh, I bet.
-Fresh Direct delivery groceries are great, especially when one lives on the fifth floor.
-I’ve never watched so much Seinfeld and Friends, partially because I have nothing else to do and partially because everything comes on an hour later here. Each show is a reflection of living in New York. Seinfeld is pretty accurate. Friends is not (and the writers destroyed the characters in the later years, especially Ross).

Nickelcrap

Things that ruined music:

Autotuners
Shakira
Nickelback
"Yee-ah"
The media brou-ha-ha surrounding the Dixie Chicks or any other artist that speaks his opinion

Indecent proposal

Gnarls Barkley is crazy . . . but is America crazy also?

Gnarls Barkley's debut hit the charts at #20 this week, much lower than I expected. The album has been a top-five hit in England for seven or eight weeks, so I had high expectations. After listening to the new Gnarls album several times, I'm pretty sure these guys are crazy--crazy original and crazy good. And after reviewing the 19 albums in front of St. Elsewhere, I'm pretty sure that America is crazy too. Let's review this week's top 20.

1. Red Hot Chili Peppers - Stadium Arcadium: Actually, I have no issues here. I haven't heard the album yet, but I sort of like Dani California as a single, mainly because of the kick-ass guitar solo (welcome back John Frusciante!). By the way, this is the Pepper's first #1 album, which I find hard to believe. Blood Sugar Sex Magik and Californication both peaked at #3, and By the Way hit #2 in 2002.

2. Nick Lachey - What's Left of Me: Middle aged man loses extremely hot girl (and a portion of fame as well). Apparently, not much is left. Exhibit #1 showing that America is crazy and a good excuse to post a picture of Jessica Simpson.

3. Tool - 10,000 Days: No issue here either. I haven't been a fan since Undertow, but I've heard they are better now than they were 10 years ago. And, they just performed at Gammage, which is an interesting choice for a hard rock band.

4. Jagged Edge - Jagged Edge: No clue. But from the cover, I think we can submit this as Exhibit #2.

5. The Isley Brothers feat. Ronald Isley - Baby Making Music: The Isley Brothers? Really? The same band that had a hit with "Shout" in 1959? Seriously? It's been more than 40 years since then. What does this say about the state of music today? Exhibit #3.

6. Rascal Flatts - Me and My Gang: I guess some people like modern country, so I'll give them a few slots in the top twenty. Still, the album should be My Gang and Me.

7. Soundtrack - High School Musical: It's a movie about Karaoke. It's from Disney. According to Billboard, "While the movie's soundtrack isn't exactly challenging, it does feature a pretty engaging mix of music and empowering messages, most of which can be found in earnest ballads." Hmmm, I'll pass, thanks. Exhibit #4

8. Pearl Jam - Pearl Jam: The band that fought TicketMaster. The band that put out 25 live recordings of the same tour. The band that put out three shitty albums on Epic to complete its contract, and then put out this album on its own. I love it. Let's make guacamole.

9. Various Artists - Now this is what I call Music 21: On the positive side, this keeps all those other crappy artists out of the top 20. On the negative side, this is one of the worst ongoing series ever. If you want to hear any of these songs (probably in the same order in which they appear on the album), turn on whatever top 40 pop station you can find. Exhibit #5.

10. James Blunt - Back to Bedlam: I'm torn on this one. I have the album, but I don't listen to it. Let's call this Exhibit #6, mainly because the people who are buying this album have probably only heard the edited version of "You're Beautiful" and think the song says ". . . flying high." They also think it is a love song. They are in for a surprise.

11. Bruce Springsteen - We Shall Overcome: The Seeger Sessions: With this and the Isley Brothers, who knew the Boomers were still buying albums? Actually, maybe they are the only people still buying albums. Still, this seems like a fair spot for an American legend. But this leads me Bon Jovi's new album, which is an absolute debacle. First, the album cover is a stupid emoticon smiley face. Second, has anyone seen the video for "Let's Build a House" or whatever? Fine, the boys raised some money and built some houses. But did they really need to record a three-minute commercial for themselves--and then trick MTV and VH1 to play it? Exhibit #7 and #8 right here.

12. Andrea Bocelli - Amore: This could be counter-exhibit #1, as it is actually a traditional, non-pop album in America's top 20. Kudos.

13. Tim McGraw - Greatest Hits Volume 2: Reflected: Again, I'm open to country fans, but does Tim McGraw's career merit TWO greatest hits albums? Like the ex-Mr. Jessica Simpson, I think he's another guy famous for who he married. Exhibit #9, not for the country, but for the second greatest hits album.

14. Paul Simon - Surprise: Surprise! He's still alive! Great career, great songwriter, but can't he sit back and live off royalties? Or does he still record albums as a big "f-you" to Garfunkel? Another album propelled by the Boomer buyers.

15. Neil Young - Living With War: So, Neil Young records a protest album. How very 1971 of him. Maybe he can record another song about the shootings at Kent State, as well. I like generally like Neil Young, but I'm going to have to label this Exhibit #10 for unnecessary nostalgia.

16. Shakira - Oral Fixation Volume 2: Again with the multiple volumes. I'll tell you what Shakira's hips don't lie about--she can't sing, she can't dance, and she's not pretty. Stop shaking to cover up for your weaknesses. Exhibit #11.

17. Alan Jackson - Precious Memories: This album has precious memories of climbing up to the fourth spot, then slipping every week since then.

18. Toby Keith - White Trash With Money: Everyone who bought this album is white trash with less money. A 12-er of Natty Light would have been a better choice. Exhibit #12.

19. Godsmack - IV: I really hope this refers to intravenous, and not IV, like Led Zeppelin's perfect album IV. A heroin reference might make the album salvagable. Exhibit #13.

And with this, the prosecution rests. 19 albums, 11 direct violations and 13 exhibits. America is crazy (like I needed to tell you that).

Sometimes it's okay for grown men to kiss

I'm watching the Champions League soccer final right now, and Barcelona just scored its second goal in four minutes to go up 2 - 1 over Arsenal with 10 minutes left in the match. Arsenal scored in the first half and led for about 40 minutes, despite losing its goalie to a red card 18 minutes into the match.

At the 80 minute mark, Barca's Samuel Eto'o slid behind the defense on the right side and flicked in a quick shot before collapsing to his knees in the rain. Immediately mobbed by teammates, Eto'o was kissed by at least two excited teammates. It was a very Brokeback moment.

Barca held on to win 2 - 1, but I didn't see any more kissing during the celebration. Too bad, as I think this could really catch on in the NFL now that certain touchdown celebrations are banned.

IKEA Claims Another 10,000 Lifestyles | The Onion - America's Finest News Source

An endemic is occuring. Luckily, our move might allow us to escape its grasp--but not before letting the disease spread to my sister's house!

A new meaning for "hail to the chief"

Anyone heard the song "Hail to the Chief"? You know, the lame one that plays when the President enters the room? Hail to the Chief was first played for a presidential entrance in 1812 or 1845, well before the modern era. The current president has an iPod: I think it is time for an update. The song is boring, and worse, it apparently descends from a Scottish folk song. That's right, an American didn't even write the song that announces the entrance of the American president. I think this is cause for a moral outrage (since everything else is these days).

In fact, I propose a new song for such entrances: the Indiana Jones theme. Da-ta-da-da, ta ta, Da-ta-duh-da, DAH DAH DAH. Who wouldn't want to hear this song more? I think there are at least three immediate benefits. First, the song is much cooler and uplifting, and it might make people a little more excited to hear the president speak. Second, in the wake of image problems related to recent presidents (no shots at either administration), it could restore the heroic image that the office of the president used to hold. Third, an updated song from a cool movie might make kids more interested in politics. I don't see anything wrong with any of these outcomes.

The song was also composed by an American, the great John Williams. He also wrote the music for Star Wars, which provides an interesting contrast. For example, if the president is meeting with some dignitaries from Iran or North Korea (or even if an incumbent president is debating a challenger), he could enter to the Indiana Jones theme while Star Wars' Imperial March is played for the other person. Who would be against this? In fact, I think we take this idea even further and have the translator speak through a Darth Vader voice box (or just have James Earl Jones voice over entire speeches).

I voiced this opinion to a friend today, and he thought the current president might take this idea too far and start appearing in public with a bull whip. Again, who would have a problem with this? He could smack the toupee off Kim Jong-il. I also heard that Bush would like to run for another term; I can't decide if this is because he just ignores the rules anyway or because he can't count to three. Either way, it is an interesting debate with enormous political ramifications.

Welcome to my underground lair

As of today, I'm assuming a new online identity: Diabolical H. Crazy.

The choices were tough, but I had an inspiring list (all actual spam names I received):
Regulatory F. Premising
Overslept H. Hutton
Pickle H. Excursion
Zigzag I. Charcoal
Principle H. Impertinence
Fertilizing A. Linnets
Eutychius Colpitts
Sardining D. Contradistinction
Narrower B. Amorousness
Keystrokes Q. Dumped
Spongiest F. Monetarism
Destined I. Frigidaire
Neologism K. Spartacus
Standard Q. Openwork

Parkour

My wife knows that one of my life goals--likely never to be achieved at this point--is learning how to run up a wall and do a back flip.

One time at a busted party in high school, I tried to hide from the popo by jumping into the framing in the ceiling of an unfinished house. I wanted to grab onto a pipe and swing my legs over something else, so I could hang up there. Needless to say, it didn't work, and I ended up in the back of a black-and-white car that night. I earned the nickname Zachie Chan for that moment, which I will probably never live down.

Maybe if I were one of these guys, I could have escaped an interesting situation that night (although my car was there, so I guess I wouldn't have made it that far).

The Ricker sightings in NY

My father, he gets around. First, he entered the world mustache and beard championships in Europe last year.








Then, he appeared on a street sign in Greenwich Village.










Finally, he appears to have opened up a restaurant in New York, with the "Havana Rick" look he rocks on vacations. Unfortunately, someone already beat him to the punch with the name.

Can you re-jump the shark?

It seems everyone (even my mother-in-law) knows about jumping the shark. Happy Days, blah blah blah, The Fonz, yadda yadda yadda, water skiing in a leather jacket. It also seems that everyone, in the interest of sensationalism, is quick to write off shows and trends at earlier and earlier points. Desperate Housewives? Jumped early in season one. The O.C.? Maybe late in the second season, but definitely in the third when Johnny entered the picture (though some say the Oliver fiasco was the tipping point). I've even heard people declare that the phrase "the tipping point" has jumped the shark, or "tipped" according to Gladwell.

(Non sequitur extraordinaire: I think the lead singer from Wolfmother just passed Gladwell as the best white-fro in the world.)

Now, back to the O.C. and jumping the shark. For background, until recently, the O.C. was one of the shows my DVR recorded, along with the Sopranos, Scrubs, Grey's Anatomy, the Simpsons, Sons & Daughters, and My Name is Earl. However, I lost track of the O.C. back in November, just when those crazy kids were applying to college, Marissa was in public school, and Johnny's surfing career had been wiped out by a car.

Fast forward to March; I deleted a bunch of the older episodes to clear room on my DVR, but I kept a few from February. Last month, bored and home alone one night, I decided to knock out one of these newer, but still months old, episodes. Within minutes, I learned that Johnny died, what's-her-name from Chino was back, and something else was going on. It was so bad, I had to turn it off immediately.

Then, the other evening, my wife and I were talking with another friend, and she said that the O.C. got so much better in April--and from the story lines she described, maybe it did. Therefore, I wonder, can something re-jump the shark?

Control Your Hose

I have a pet peeve.

I work in an office complex, not much different than similar complexes spread throughout the country, be it Des Moines, Deluth or Denver. Three floors. About 20 companies. And bathrooms on every floor. I drink a lot of water each day, so I visit these rest rooms five to six times per day.

Invariably, by 10:00 in the morning or so, there is a giant puddle in front of the urinal. A puddle that grows throughout the day. By the afternoon, there's almost no safe place to stand.

Why is it, that grown men--in the middle of the day, surely not intoxicated--cannot hit a simple little target? Assuming everyone in this building has at least 20 years of experience, why is that so hard? The designer of the urinal even accounts for this, as most urinals curve outward at the bottom.

Gentlemen: control your hose. It's a simple thing to do.

It's a Small, Small MySpace

Despite my previous aversion to MySpace, I've come to a conclusion: maybe it's not all that bad. Okay, so there are the occasional child predators and otherwise inane rambling and David Hasselhoff-idolizing. I never pictured myself spending much time on MySpace.

That is, until I discovered MySpace music. Yesterday, the entire Gnarls Barkley album streamed. (Side note: Crazy will be the blow out song of the summer. I know it. And we will all hate it by July.)

I also learned about these enterprising young lads. Their goal: releasing 12 EPs in 2006, on the last day of every month. The March one is pretty good; maybe I'll be able to check these guys out in Brooklyn this summer. MySpace was also the first place I heard Jose Gonzalez. My wife, she's so last century: she actually heard him on NPR. I don't even know what that is--there's no triple-Dub in front of it, so it doesn't work when I type it into Firefox.

Anyway, what's fascinating to me is that this represents a major step forward in the relationship between a band and its fans: a musician no longer needs the middle man (the record companies) to get its songs out to a wide audience. No more crappy tours, opening for a bigger band, with their fans anxious for you to get off the stage. No more pressing 1,000-disc runs and handing them out for free. Now, fans actually know your music at a show. You can get new music out there early to build some hype (like Gnarls Barkley did, although I'm disappointed they pushed the release date two weeks). But more importantly, you have an instantly marketable product . . . that is seen by 65 million active consumers in the 15 to 30 year old demographic. Also, because you have to sign up for MySpace (such a difficult prospect that I wouldn't be surprised if there weren't a few locked-down prisoners surfing around), there is a feeling of exclusivity. You can be the first person to discover someone, and instead of making a mix tape to share the music with your friends, you add the music to your site (or better yet, add the band as a friend and people will click through). This is essentially a form of viral marketing for people who want to find this information (as opposed to spam). I'm starting to think that, for $580 million, Rupert Murdoch's News Corporation may have underpaid for MySpace.

Also, who doesn't want to be Tom's friend now? He's rolling in a share of that half-Billion dollar payday (yet he still can't fix the damn messaging).

I Predict a (Quiet) Riot

So, there's a lot of angry people in the world these days. We have the youth in France rioting, because they can't get those jobs that come with 40 vacation days a year. We have the people in Iraq rioting, because, well, I don't know. But I'd sure be pissed if some other country came in, blew up all my shit and tried to put a democratic government in place--only to talk about pulling out a year later. We've even got some people in India rioting, because some actor named Raj Kumar died.

Here, we have some major political issues right now, but I think the one with the most concern nationally is the immigration issue. I don't really know what this is about, other than it changes the classification of illegal immigrants from misdemeanor to a felony. However, I think these protests are the very symbol of what's wrong with this country: we can't even be bothered to protest; we have to let the immigrants do it. And they didn't even do it right! I expected some serious violence, or at least a little hat dance on an effigy of a congressman. Instead we get a sea of white. At least the French, Iraqi and Indian people can whip up a good riot.

I hope the Detroit Pistons win the NBA title this year. Maybe then we'll have a good chance at a decent riot.

We sold the house . . .

So now we are having a "Let's ruin the carpet" party.

May 6. Details to come. Debauchery ensured.

Because this is how I roll.

I'm supposed to be studying today, but I've hit a little bit of a mental wall. I'm preparing to take Level 2 of the CFA exam in early June. Honestly, I'm just not feeling it. I sat for and did not pass Level 2 last June, and it was one of the most disappointing moments in my life, not because I didn't pass, but because I felt extremely prepared and confident going into and leaving the exam. My score report was also weird, as I did poorly in areas that were my strengths, while I performed well in other areas that I didn't really study. I even paid $150 to have my exam regraded by hand, with the same result.

So here I am, wasting a lovely Sunday afternoon indoors. The Masters is on in the other room (the last update I saw had Mickelson in the lead with Couples and Jimenez, with Tiger and Chad Campbell one back). I'd love to squeeze in a run or lay by the pool. Instead, I'm sitting in my office in a really uncomfortable desk chair. I've been getting up at 5:30 to study three or four days a week for the past month, and I'm barely making a dent in the material. I started working through some problems today, but I don't have the answer key, so I'm not sure if I'm even doing things correctly.

I'm trying to decide: should I buckle down and study for the next six weeks, knowing that I will be extremely distracted (another trip to NY, visits from my parents and some friends, a trip to Hawaii, plus all loose ends that come with selling the cars, closing on the house and packing for the move), or should I forget about the studying, enjoy my last few months in Arizona and try my hand at Level 2 and Level 3 after grad school?

My Humps

I like the Black Eyed Peas. Or more accurately, I liked the Black Eyed Peas. I bought their first CD, Behind the Front, as a reward for acing a test when I was a freshman at ASU. Fallin’ Up, Clap Your Hands, Joints & Jams and Karma were my jams that year. I even memorized the skits between songs: “El Niño, what is it you came to do?” “Basically, I came to bring the rain.” “Haha, let me get my coat!” Live shows were amazing, and I saw the band at least three times between 1999 and 2002---though they were never big enough to headline their own tour.

The second album, Bridging the Gap, was a little different, a little weird, but still better than most other stuff I listened to. At this point, it was clear that Will.i.am had real talent and that the band would go as far as he could carry them. Though necessary to the band’s sound, Taboo and Apl.de.Ap didn’t really step up, with the exception of Apl’s Filipino/Spanish rapping. Will.i.am needed someone to play off, as some of the best early songs also had an anonymous female lead (mainly Sierra Swan), but it wasn’t until the Peas recruited Sarah Ferguson (“Fergie,” which makes her sound fat) from Wild Orchid that the band’s current Hip-Pop sound emerged.

I’ll admit it, I was into the sound when I saw BEP’s first appearance with Fergie at Coachella in 2003: Let’s Get Retarded and Labor Day (Holiday) were great live jams (it was always BEP’s live instrumentation backing band that gave their concerts such a unique energy). At that point, Fergie wasn’t fully integrated into the band’s songwriting dimension yet. The next album, Elephunk, reflected this dichotomy. In addition to Retarded and Labor Day, Hands Up and Hey Mama harkened back to the Peas’ roots. Where is the Love gave the Peas a radio hit, and it was the band’s first song to reflect its new pop direction. However, I think the standout song was Shut Up, a dynamic his side/her side duet between Will.i.am and Fergie that had me thinking Fergie’s addition to the band wasn’t all bad (though the crappy mash up with Linkin Park offered the first crack in Will.i.am’s artistic direction).

This brings me to Monkey Business, which is absolutely one of the worst, least cohesive and disappointing albums I have ever heard (interestingly, 12 of the album’s 15 songs have one- or two-word titles that sound monotonous and ambiguous: My Style, My Humps, Like That, Feel It, etc). Black Eyed Peas changed from its unique, choppy, jazz-based composition to a studio-driven, polished sound that included samples (the fast-paced but lazy Pump It), guest appearances (a surprising turn by Jack Johnson on Gone Going), and overproduction (the played out Don’t Phunk With My Heart, which I think is the furthest BEP can push the funk/phunk/fuck wordplay). I understand that expectations for the album were high, as Elephunk was the band’s commercial breakthrough, and that not every track from a 15-song album can be strong. Heck, even Led Zeppelin’s near-perfect fourth album (IV as it is affectionately known) contained two relatively weak songs: Rock & Roll (horrible title) and Misty Mountain Hop (abuse of keyboards).

Therefore, I don’t blame BEP or Will.i.am for My Humps. For this I blame America. My Humps was never intended to be ubiquitous. The band didn’t even release it as a single (at first). It was probably meant to be a joke: a harmless little song, buried on a multi-platinum album. Not until America discovered the song and not until it hit the top spot on iTunes did the Black Eyed Peas realize the phenomenon they started.

However, I do blame Will.i.am for other crimes against culture. He butchered the new Sergio Mendes album Timeless by turning it into another Black Eyed Peas monstrosity. He (and the band) changed the words to Let’s Get Retarded to make the song more friendly to corporate America. Now, thanks to the NBA ("it's faaaaan-tastic!"), people actually think the original name of the song is Let's Get It Started. And finally, he lent his “talent” to the Pussycat Dolls, working on their new single Beep, which is an EXACT RIP OFF OF MY HUMPS. Only Beep is a better song, and the Dolls are better looking than Fergie. No wonder Will.i.am is thinking about a solo album.


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It's also interesting how Fergie’s looks could decline so rapidly. I heard the phrase “Latin Carmen Electra” thrown around a few times, and she looked HOT in the Hey Mama video. However, in the My Humps video and recent appearances: not so much.




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Note: on the way back from lunch, I listened to Led Zeppelin IV. My bad: there are no weak songs here. Still, the song title Rock & Roll is pretty boring. I also appreciate the album's prognostic qualities, as Zep clearly predicted the New Orleans/Katrina disaster: "if it keeps on raining, the levee's going to break; if the levee breaks, we got no place to stay."

I understand smoke-free bars

But this is crazy.

More Fish Stories

Here's a follow up to my fish tale.

Two Down . . .

So I received a call from Kourtney yesterday . . . and I'm in at Chicago GSB! (Funny, an email just popped up from her as I was typing this.)

Even though I've pretty much decided on New York (either Columbia or NYU), it is nice to get accepted, especially after my weird experience with the interview. Also, after thinking about it, I'm not sure it's such a good idea to send a letter to Chicago, declining the offer and explaining that the interview was a large part of the reason.

I met the dean of admissions from Columbia on Monday night when she was here for an information session and reception. She gave me some slightly positive news: since she is traveling this week, I shouldn't expect any offers to be extended. That gives me a few days of peace; I don't have to jump each time I see an email pop up in my Gmail notifier.

At least not all the fishing in San Diego was bad this weekend

I went fishing and caught bait. These guys went fishing and caught this.

Stay off the Grass

As discussed below, I wasn't allowed to walk on the grass when I was growing up. I still don't walk on the grass. My dad would even scare away dogs that meandered over by shooting a BB gun into the air. However, he never went this far.

I have 4 friends

I think I'm stuck in some sort of generational gap. I admit I'm not very hip with IM (mainly because I refuse to use AIM), but this myspace shit is blowing me away. I went to a party last weekend, where people were drinking, having a good time and checking their damn myspace pages! Every 15 minutes or so, someone would disappear for a little while. Seriously, is it more fun to leave inane comments for friends and minor acquaintances than to interact with actual people?

I asked one guy, Shannon, about it, and he says he uses it to stay in contact with people. With all that technology has to offer, is this the best we have? Seriously? A cheap, reliable postal service. Free email. Multiple phone lines. Cell phones with freakin' free long distance and a gazillion minutes for $50. And people choose myspace to stay in touch?

And what's the deal with some of these comments? "Yo brozza, haven't seen you in a while, let's get wasted this weekend!!!!" "LOL, you are so cute! Call me next time you are in town." I looked around at some profiles today, and it appears that the new trend is leaving pictures of David Hasselhoff in the comments section. David Freakin' Hasselhoff? Other than the Germans, who cares? Also, the only reason he is in the news right now is because he was just arrested for domestic violence.

And now I hear that myspace is on its way out . . . Facebook is now the shit. At least by going back to school I will get another .edu email address. You better look out--I'll be leaving inane comments and posting stupid pictures on other people's profiles in no time.


Update 3/20 1:30 PM: I now have 5 friends. And someone sent me my first real message. Things are snowballing out of control!

Time for the Claws to Come Out

According to the Orlando Sun-Sentinel, cat owners have another reason to feel inferior. I am intrigued by Cari Wiggins, though:

Cari Wiggins, 47, of Hollywood, totes Minuska, her 6-year-old tabby, to her office, church meetings and even the gym. She wants the cat to be able to dine with her as well.

"She's clean. She's well-behaved. Why not? Why just dogs?" asked Wiggins, who has been denied service at outdoor restaurants.

I'm sure my dad would be into this. After losing two cats to foxes/coyotes, he now takes his cats for walks in the woods on 30-foot strings. He even has nails strategically placed around the property to tie the cats up to while he gardens.

My Dad is a Cat Person

I have a bunch of rules by which I irrationally judge or classify people. Never buy anything from someone who can't tie a decent knot for his tie, or who ties his tie too long. Don't trust a guy who orders his steak cooked to anything past medium. Beware of the one person not drinking at the poker table or blackjack table. Dog people are easier to get along with than cat people are. Don't bake your bread where you make your dough. And, in the words of Coach Finstock from Teen Wolf, "never play cards with a guy who has the same first name as a city, and never get involved with a woman with a tattoo of a dagger on her body."

Well, let's just say that my dad is a cat person. He sent me 6 photos today of his Easter present: a misting humidifier that "releases 2 cups of water an hour!" (Update 03/14/06: This morning I received two more photos, this time taken at night. It lights up purple.) The cats were thoroughly amused and proceeded to knock it over, getting the carpet wet. My dad then devised a system to attach it to the wall, using fishing line "that you can hardly see!" In my experience, if my dad says it's hardly visible, it means it sticks out like a sore thumb.

He scans his golf scorecards and sends them to me occasionally, even though he is the master of mulligans and likes to "improve his lie." He claims that he invented "golfing sandals." My dad's 37 is a lot like a one-person scramble: he plays multiple balls but only counts the ones that end up where he wants. Once, when he broke 80, he called me and told me about every single shot--on my answering machine.


The Ricker is an interesting character. I've had hour-long conversations where I've never said a word (sometimes, I even set the phone down for extended periods). He also claims to have invented the skateboard and wrote the second verse to "Louie, Louie." Even though he now denies both, he once said, "I have kids because I can't have slaves" and was the originator of the Rick Shannon: vodka, cranberry juice and Zima. He is often shirtless, and his shorts are so short he occasionally leaves the cake out in the rain. He gave my friends the sex talk and once showed my wife and me his cock ring. I'm pretty sure he used to be a swinger. He has dabbled in art and sculpting, and then invites serious artists over to look at his "work" (he also sends me at least six pictures of these, too). Yet somehow, he was duped by an alcoholic New Mexican into buying counterfeit Santos carvings. When I go home for holidays, he invents projects (this time, it was installing some crap in the gutters) to avoid spending time with the family, but then he makes me come out so I don't see anyone either. I've been driving for 10 years (that he knows about), but he still watches me drive up and down the driveway each time I go home. He makes sure that I don't hit any of his precious pots or trees when I turn around. I've never had a problem, whereas he's slid off quite a few times (and one time actually slid up the hill sideways). My friends: not allowed to go up the driveway. In fact, he'd rather they not even walk on it. And don't even get me started on the grass--he even trained the dog not to walk on the grass. The funny thing is, for all the time he spends on his lawn, we have some of the worst grass I've ever seen. He is obsessed with his yard and his flowers and sumacs. As Ryan says, "aren't sumacs weeds?" Yes. And they can be poisonous. Actually, I'm certain that I've been poisoned at dinner with him, or at least had my food spit in. He's a horrible tipper and horrible guest; the goal of every service encounter is to get the next one for free. He's even had a free weekend at a nice resort (because he complained during his last stay) but managed to find something else wrong--and get another free stay. I think that was his proudest moment. He drives two of the same car: a Cadillac STS. One is a 1992 and the other is a '99. He is convinced that the '92 is better in the snow. On Friday nights, there's nothing he likes better than going to a local restaurant and pretending that the servers are his best friends (he has invited the Filipino guy from the Chinese restaurant over for Christmas and Thanksgiving). After dinner, he returns home, mixes a drink, puts on his boxers (which for some reason he only wears when he's wearing nothing else), lights candles, turns on music and lifts weights. And by weights, I don't mean heavy lifting, but instead moving around a pair of eight-pound dumbbells. I guess he has to keep in shape for pictures like this.



This was taken while my parents were in Spain. Besides scaring me for life, I'm trying to figure out why the bidet is running. Also, I love the fact that there is a can of "The Dry Look" hairspray in the background. When my dad found out that he wasn't able to buy this hairspray in Colorado anymore, he called up the company and ordered cases. He still has enough cans for the apocalypse sitting in our basement.

Finally, beware of this trend.

Too much free time

New York Bound

I was accepted to NYU Stern this week, so one thing is official: the wife and I are moving to New York. She loved the city and has great job opportunities there; I loved the city and now know that I will attend either NYU or Columbia. At this point, I've ruled out the University of Chicago GSB--which at one time was the only school to which I planned to apply--for a variety of reasons. Rumors of a hyper-competitive atmosphere was one reason. A very negative impression created by my alumni interview was another. But seeing NYU and Columbia and the opportunities that will be available for me in New York was probably the main reason.

I was scared of the concept of moving to New York; Chicago seemed like a "safer" option. However, after "living" in the city for a week (admittedly in a very nice hotel), I think I can actually live there. I saw apartments, I saw the rats and I experienced some cold weather (here's another reason why I like New York better right now: when we got in, it was cold, probably 28 degrees by with 40 mph winds. But it warmed up. Did Chicago? No.). We are selling both cars, and I am okay with letting the Albino Rhino go. Plus, the people in New York were in general much thinner and much better looking than those in Chicago (not that I look at anyone but my wife).

Personal DNA - a personality test

Here's an interesting personality test .

According to the test, I am a:

Dynamic Director

If you go here and have a half hour to spare, you can rate me too.

Apparently, I have no empathy for others, but I am confident and extroverted. I am practical and detail-oriented and pay attention to details others might miss. I am open to new experiences and take risks to try something new. I might be exhausting to some people (for instance, trying to teach a friend to play the guitar while drunk), but I enjoy being around people and interacting--it's no suprise that I like to talk. I need to spend some time exploring other people's perspectives and making an effort to see complexities in situations. Also, I don't believe in luck and am more masculine than 70% of respondents (I am also more feminine than 2% of respondents).

Figure Skating is a Sham

How can someone who falls get the silver medal? Why aren't more people amused that Russian powerhouse Slutskaya looks like a man? And am I the only one who thinks it is funny that her name starts with "slut"?

I'm still in NY. I went to Whiskey Blue again tonight, this time with the Dirty DL. He was into the short skirts. The scene at the Whiskey is very Scottsdale, in fact, so it wasn't new to me. I was more into going to PJ Clarks, which I've heard is the oldest bar in Manhattan.

The Dirty DL and I were talking about commitment, and how he thinks it's unnatural. I think it is something we have to do. Commitment is a symbol of how much you care for someone, and it is something that should be honored. I also have a different perspective than he does. I have been away from my wife for a few days; he hasn't seen his girlfriend in a few months. Plus, he's been around enough to earn the nickname Dirty (though he's not nearly as dirty as my former roommate, The Model, who is going on the 150s, conservatively).

Back to figure skating, another think that bothers me is that flips are illegal in the Olympics, though skaters can perform them in global or country championships. Why is that? Other than adding another rotation, flips are the newest and most athletic move in figure skating. Anyway, who really cares? I'd rather be watching the X Games anyway.