Nothing's Smelling Like a Rose...

9:30PM. Still shooting. About to become two units cause "Vincent is getting restless."

Stuck till midnight at least while my friends imbibe the good juice.

At least beer and urine prevents death by avalanche.

It has WORDS?!?

Here comes Mister Softee, the Soft Ice Cream Man.
The creamiest, dreamiest soft ice cream you get from Mister Softee.
For a refreshing delight supreme, look for Mister Softee.
My milkshakes and my sundaes and my cones are such a treat.
Listen for my store-on-wheels ding-a-ling down the street
The creamiest, dreamiest soft ice cream you get from Mister Softee.
For a refreshing delight supreme, look for Mister Softee.
S-O-F-T Double-E Mister Softee!

I just found out there were lyrics. Mister Softee, represented by James Conway, Jr., came under fire for the song that emanates from the ice cream trucks in summertime. For noise.

"And I understand that. I have four children, and if you pull up a truck in my neighborhood, I wouldn't want it to be there playing music over and over again, either," states Conway, appearing as a star witness at a hearing regarding noise in New York City. The song, which easily was the soundtrack to my nightmares until Britney Spears surfaced, can be ceased when the truck's in park, Conway offered.

Now if only they could take into account the skeevy drivers, we might have something here.

Where Have All the Cowboys Gone?

A week ago, on Martin Luther King, Jr. Day, I noticed an article in the Washington Post titled "Gay Rights Groups Map Common Agenda." The article spoke about how lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender (or abbreviated LGBT) advocacy groups united and published their agenda for the upcoming year. The agenda included:

"...pushing for equal employment opportunities; adding sexual orientation and gender identity to federal hate crimes law; fighting for protections for children of LGBT couples; overturning military restrictions on gay soldiers; opposing anti-gay state and federal legislation; and fighting for the freedom to marry."

Later, in the article, it cites the LGBT's recent victories despite Bush winning back the White House and 11 states outlawing gay marriage. Those victories include:

"In California, the new year ushered in the strongest domestic partnership benefits in the country. In Montana, the Supreme Court ruled that excluding same-sex partners from dependent health benefits offered to state university employees violated the state Constitution's equal protection requirements. In Illinois, the legislature passed a bill banning discrimination against gays, joining 14 other states with such laws.

"...It was only 18 months ago, after all, that the Supreme Court struck down Texas sodomy laws, which extended the right to privacy to same-sex couples."

Now that's all well and good. Go for them.

Still, I couldn't tear myself away from my cardinal principle of "when all else fails, fuck shit up." It seemed like this agenda created literally beauracracy on the way to the struggle for Civil Rights. Like, as opposed to defying the system and carrying on with gay marriages because it's about love, people are waiting merely for the government to justify them. This sentiment appeared in Paul Starr's article today in the NY Times, where he states:

"Democrats have paid a historic price for their role in the great moral revolutions that during the past half-century have transformed relations between whites and blacks, men and women, gays and straights. And liberal Democrats, in particular, have been inviting political oblivion - not by advocating the wrong causes, but by letting their political instincts atrophy and relying on the legal system."

This captured my reaction to the LGBT agenda perfectly. Though their victories admirable and their goals modest, I read it on Martin Luther King, Jr. Day and thought to myself: Where's the sit-in? Where's Rosa Parks? Where's the peaceful march on Washington"? Sure, we had a few weddings in Frisco and New Paltz, but why did it stop? Why are we waiting for the government to approve what we already know to be right?

We've grown so accustomed to saying, "Oh we need the legal system to justify us" that we've forgotten history. We're hoping to get the results without the struggle, without attempting to fuck shit up. This isn't just gay marriage, this is abortion. This is gun control. This is all you can imagine. All we should get up and do something about, but instead we trust our lawmakers to right our wrongs for us.

Yeah, and that worked out so well on Election Day.

So, as we maintain the status quo on the eve of choosing the lead of the Democratic Party, we're left waiting and watching on the sidelines. Hoping it all goes according to plan. And forgetting Martin Luther King's words in front of the Washington Monument...

"And as we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always march ahead. We cannot turn back. There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, 'When will you be satisfied?' ... No, no we are not satisfied and we will not be satisfied until justice rolls down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream."

More On Commuting

Homeless man, on counsel from wall, burns down subway. Film at 11.

No C train service for 5 years? I'll be honest. I haven't seen this kind of logjam in Chelsea since, well... Oh man... 2 in and we're on anal sex already.

A homeless man changed his shoes and socks on the D train in front of me this morning. I informed him that it's no way to waste his colostomy bag.

Women with large noses shouldn't sit in profile, unless they're being paid by Milton Bradley to endorse Chutes & Ladders.

Celebrities don't ride the subway. Celebrities look-alikes do, though.

The MTA uses turnstiles to collect payment for riding on the subway. I use turnstiles as a way to comically get hit in the nuts with a steel pole.

You can usually tell if a local team won a big game last night by the paraphernalia on the riders the next morning. Unless the big game has anything to do with the WNBA. Then, nobody cares.

There's something very democratic about subways. If by "democratic," I mean "hostile takeover by irate foreigners who have no issues making a little leeway by sticking their crotch in your face."

I appreciate the elaborate design of the NYC subway routes. One can essentially blow another person off at any given station, with a meager "Oh, this is my stop," or "Oh, I need to transfer here," or "Oh, I don't like you."

One can presumably blow another person off on a subway platform, too, but homeless people like fire.

Upon Further Inspection

CNN.com reports that President George W. Bush, along with wife Laura, attended the National Prayer Service on Friday at Washington National Cathedral.

Bush has millions in the bank, and I know being President pays pretty well, too. So, call me crazy, but...



That's just a $20 for the collection plate, right?

On Commuting

In the last 2 days, I count 3 fur coats on the subway while commuting. 3. I am not completely opposed to fur coats. I imagine if an Inuit had the choice between killing that bear attacking his family and using the fur for warmth cause Canada's so fucking cold, or, letting the bear ravage his family while he downed the last of the grog for warmth... yeah, I'd have a hard time objecting. As a vanity, though? Nope. Being passed off as a vanity despite wearing it on the subway? Yeah, lady, not a chance.

3 trains are faster than one. Convenience sucks anyway.

Apparently, subway commuters only read assignment paperbacks and Danielle Steele novels. I may take up reading as well.

Good looking women do not ride the subway between 10PM and 7AM. Ever. Not once. Apparently, they either keep a curfew, or simply know what hours I intend to ride the subway.

Whatever happened to the those people hocking batteries for a dollar?

Or the accordion guy with the pole holding him up?

I imagine the D train over the Manhattan bridge at night could be the most romantic subway experience you'll have on a New York City subway. I imagine being raped by a homeless man in the old City Hall station could be the worst.

Dirty people sure do like heavy metal t-shirts.

On Yay

Earlier in the day, I found myself troubleshooting a computer in the Costume shop. From there, a recipient of a present of garden tools couldn't withhold her glee. I worked, then... "Yay!"

I attended a silly kid's movie last night featuring a big race. At its conclusion (the race, not the movie) with our hero triumphant, the kids cried out, "Yay."

Saturday night, I stopped at Mr. ArnevicusGay's house to witness the debacle that is the card drinking game, "Asshole." (In Syracuse, we never made much of drinking games. Maybe we flattered them a bit, tried 'em out for a minute or two, but we promptly pushed these frivolous endeavors aside for further study of liquor's ability to justify drinking more liquor.) Instead, on every set of four in a row, or on an assigned card, we had a social. A group of OeJay's peers cried out, "Yay."

Yay. I suppose I can't immediate fault a word that the Urban Dictionary defines as a nickname for cocaine.

I can, however, plot the demise of those who use this "yay" a smidgen too much. I like excitement as much as the next guy, but I've no desire to express my desire to explore the Continental Congress member in me. Maybe I'm just more inclined to "Yes," or "Oh yeah," or "Ay Papi!"

Yay-Sayers, be warned. IF I can write a shoddy, poorly thought-out blog about you, imagine what I could do with a tire iron.

I Googlewhack-ed yo Mama...

I spent Saturday night getting my mind blown out of my skull. I attended Dave Gorman's Googlewhack Adventure, a two-hour forray into one man's journey to dig himself into debt and to bring Googlewhacking to the world. Mr. Gorman tells a story in a 2 hour monologue about receiving an advance to write a novel. Using that advance and rather than actually write said novel, Dave engaged in a life-altering quest filled with suspense and coincidence to meet 10 Googlewhacks in a row before his 32nd birthday. Now, before Saturday, I knew nothing of this Googlewhack phenomenon. Now, I know too much. Googlewhacking exists as the quintessential slacker's playtoy.

The Urban Dictionary defines the term "Googlewhack" as:

insipid yet obsessive challenge to enter exactly two words found in a common english dictionary into the google.com search engine that will return exactly one result.

This phenomenon, reported in random periodicals, apparently has rules, which include:
- two words ONLY
- words must be recognized by a dictionary (online or print)
- NO Names
- Googlewhack can't exist as part of a list on a web page

In the spirit of procrastination, I uncovered my first two Googlewhacks at work today, which were:

esidualray enokidakeway

ackadazicallay utterbay

Is that Pig Latin? Yes. If I wrote the words, Google would cache (aka remember) them and they'd no longer count. Yep, that's how cool the show came off for me. You should see it.

(ed. note: Oejay Arnevicusgay, a teacher at a Technical High School in Brooklyn, keeps a substantial amount of pornography on his computer. Go ahead, Google. Cache that.)

On TV from Where They Talk Funny

Moving away from my job (Which remains funny in a "Why do people keep dying these extravagant deaths?" type way), I randomly found my way onto the BBC.com website. Upon fumbling around, I found my way onto the Coupling bio page. Coupling, for the blissfully ignorant, exists as a BBC sit-com similar to Friends only without the Ross & Rachel ongoing (and often infuriating) tension, without the progression of Chandler changing from the best character on the show to a whiny little bitch, and with substantially more penis joke. Good times.

Then I read this bit on the BBC.com page, the page for the British Broadcasting Company, which, although a government-run agency equivalent to PBS here though with TV you might actually watch, probably sitll wants you to watch their shows:

Davenport (the attractive barrister Miles in BBC2's sexy legal ensemble drama This Life) made a likeable lead, and Sarah Alexander again proved adept at light comedy, but these were the only highlights in a first series that seemed to sacrifice character depth in favour of bawdy jokes and unlikely sexual situations.

But looks aren't everything, and - initially at least - the overall effect was occasionally so superficial that it was difficult, as the viewer, to give a fig for the characters and their couplings.

There's a bit about the NBC rendition, too, but I'm not allowed to talk disparagingly about the people who sign my checks.

The bio caught my eye cause I wasn't expecting to see "this show sucks" on the bio page from it's broadcasting company (not a network - Britian didn't sell out the airwaves, and for that, I salute them). I found myself wanting to castrate "the viewer" for writing one of the most backwards show bios I've ever seen. Try reading the first paragraph without getting a headache.

Also, figs suck. I'd be more than willing to give figs to anyone about anything, perhaps also telling them to "Lick my Fig" as well.

Back to "work."

The Devil Made Me Do It

Or us, apparently.

A Texas appeals court in Houston on Thursday ordered a new trial for Andrea Yates, the woman who confessed to drowning her five children in a bathtub, citing the false testimony of a prosecution witness.

The Texas First Court of Appeals ruled that the conviction should be reversed because an expert witness for the state, Dr. Park Dietz, presented false testimony when he said Yates may have been influenced by an episode of the "Law & Order" television program. No such episode had ever aired.

Yates, now 40, apparently was a fan of the show and watched regularly.

New Year, Same Great Taste

Right. Blogging. Yes.

Things we learned from 2004:
- I need to travel more.
- God, the Mets are awful.
- Working in television can be educational, cause it sure as hell ain't lucrative yet.
- L-bomb.
- Two rice krispie states down.
- Were those rice krispie states red or blue?
- Never incorporate Rock, Paper, Scissors in any way to your New Year's plans.

Things to look forward to for 2005:
- I need to travel more.
- God, the Mets will be awful.
- Oranges, oranges, oranges and graphic design.
- 48 rice krispie states to go.