Man of the Hour

It's been a while since i've graced this site with a few choice words, and to those ofyou who're still listening...my apologies. Life being what it is, I found myself lacking a certain voice; the need to express my thoughts to the world at large had, temporarily, vanished.

However, like the mythical phoenix, my narcissism has been reborn. The fire that birthed this re-entry into the blogosphere?

Occasionally...rarely, an individual comes into the public consciousness that inspires us. Often positively, sometimes negatively, but there is no question that we are forced to *opine* upon their existence. We argue about them, households becoming divided in the intensity of these discussions. We obsess over them, we watch anxiously for scraps dropping from the literary tables, looking to snatch a morsel of information - any information - to sate our appetite for knowledge of this individual, for tidbits and crumbs that serve only to fuel the fires already raging inside of us.

For months now, perhaps longer, there is one individual who has caused such intensity of emotion as to cause the weak to swoon, that has inflamed the outrage of some even as the passions of others have been fanned to inferno proportions.

Yes, you know exactly whom I speak of.

Edward Cullen.

Laugh, did you? As did I, when I first heard of this character. And character he is! For those of you who (a) have been living under a rock, or (b) are not female, Edward Cullen is the protagonist in Stephanie Meyer's young adult "Twilight" series of books, with a motion picture by the same title to be released next week.

Gentlemen. If the woman in your life has not been introduced to this...this...leech...do all within your power to keep her from him. Do not, under any circumstances, let these books take root in her mind and imagination, or - and I say this with the plight of all men in mind - YOU WILL BE DESTROYED.

When a friend first mentioned his name, I made the honest mistake - being male, and of sound mind - of admitting I did not know who he was.

This is a mistake. If confronted with a similar question, do not under any circumstance admit a lack of knowledge. To quote the great playahs of our age:

"Fake it until you make it."

Why, you ask? Very simpe, my friend. Becausr if you profess ignorance of the Great Edward Cullen...she will EDUCATE you.

She will gush. She will swoon. And she will COMPARE him to you, and in that moment, true believer, you will be undone.

Again, you ask: why so? It is, after all, only a character. In a book. He's fake...

Please. I beg of you, do not make that statement to your woman. Or, I suspect, any woman. Because while we, being creatures of logic, can dismiss him as being non-existant, fake, and therefore not a threat...

...to her, he is not fake. He is a Fantasy, and you - I can never, never hope to live up to the ideal that is Edward Cullen.

Cullen, you see, is a teenaged vampire.

A boy, you scoff? Again: do not underestimate his power. Part of his appeal is his youth. He is immortal, forever trapped at a single age.

Whicham incidently, is the peak age of male sexuality.

Do you begin to see now?

Oh it is worse than you think, because there is more in his power that you cannot hope to overcome. Because he, unlike you and I has had over 300 FUCKING YEARS to get his shit together.

Imagine that. 300 years of making mistakes and learning how to correct them. Meaning, 300 years as a young adult, in his prime age, learning the best ways to seduce impressionable teenaged girls.

And you hope to compete, on any level, with that?!

So I encourage you, should these novels arrive in your home: channel your inner Palin. Burn them, and invoke the name of God while doing so.

For all of our sakes.

Got Milk?

People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals sent a letter to Ben Cohen and Jerry Greenfield, cofounders of Ben & Jerry's Homemade Inc., urging them to replace cow's milk they use in their ice cream products with human breast milk.

Human. Breast. Milk.

In my ice cream.

The letter specifically reads:

September 23, 2008

Ben Cohen and Jerry Greenfield, Cofounders
Ben & Jerry's Homemade Inc.

Dear Mr. Cohen and Mr. Greenfield,

On behalf of PETA and our more than 2 million members and supporters, I'd like to bring your attention to an innovative new idea from Switzerland that would bring a unique twist to Ben and Jerry's.

Storchen restaurant is set to unveil a menu that includes soups, stews, and sauces made with at least 75 percent breast milk procured from human donors who are paid in exchange for their milk. If Ben and Jerry's replaced the cow's milk in its ice cream with breast milk, your customers-and cows-would reap the benefits.

Using cow's milk for your ice cream is a hazard to your customer's health. Dairy products have been linked to juvenile diabetes, allergies, constipation, obesity, and prostate and ovarian cancer. The late Dr. Benjamin Spock, America's leading authority on child care, spoke out against feeding cow's milk to children, saying it may play a role in anemia, allergies, and juvenile diabetes and in the long term, will set kids up for obesity and heart disease-America's number one cause of death.

Animals will also benefit from the switch to breast milk. Like all mammals, cows only produce milk during and after pregnancy, so to be able to constantly milk them, cows are forcefully impregnated every nine months. After several years of living in filthy conditions and being forced to produce 10 times more milk than they would naturally, their exhausted bodies are turned into hamburgers or ground up for soup.

And of course, the veal industry could not survive without the dairy industry. Because male calves can't produce milk, dairy farmers take them from their mothers immediately after birth and sell them to veal farms, where they endure 14 to17 weeks of torment chained inside a crate so small that they can't even turn around.

The breast is best! Won't you give cows and their babies a break and our health a boost by switching from cow's milk to breast milk in Ben and Jerry's ice cream? Thank you for your consideration.

Sincerely,

Tracy Reiman

Executive Vice President

Rather than comment on my feelings about this letter, I decided it would be best if I, on behalf of Messrs. Cohen and Greenfield, responded in kind.

Dear Tracy Reiman,

With specific regards to your letter to the Ben & Jerry Homemade, I felt obligated to respond to the idea of replacing bovine milk used in the making of their ice cream with human milk instead.

While it is an incredibly intriguing concept, I feel that you have quite possibly lost your fucking mind.

Forgetting the absolute silliness of asking a major corporation to replace a food product - which, incidently, human beings have been consuming for as long as mankind has learned to domesticate animals - with HUMAN milk, I would like to address the impracticalities of what you've asked this corporation to do.

You use, as an example, a solitary Swiss restaurant that is paying human volunteers to donate their breast milk so that they can make sauces for their dinner menus. While I believe this is a novel innovation on the part of the Swiss, the fact that you have extrapolated this concept to be used by a corporation that uses more milk in a day than this restaurant would in five years shows your complete and utter (udder?) ignorance and stupidity. Perhaps you should have directed this to the Swiss chocolatiers, as I'm certain you would enjoy milk chocolate made from human breast milk?

Do you intend for this major corporation to then reduce itself to relying on the good graces of female volunteers to fill their milk vats? Perhaps, instead, you envision deprived women in third-world countries lining up by the thousands, on a daily (if not hourly) basis, in order to donate their limited quantities of breast milk such that this corporation can meet their distribution goals?

You voice such concern for the state the cows exist in, and for that you should be applauded. You should, however, be bitch-slapped, several times in fact, for your implied suggestion that while it is deplorable for cows to exist in these conditions, it would be perfectly acceptable for human women to take their place. Perhaps we, as a nation, could enact a mandatory government draft - conscripting women by the thousands, in the name of public consumption - to volunteer for Milk Duty. These women would then spend, say four years of required service at the pumping stations to supply the needed milk for companies such as Ben & Jerry's to survive.

Conversely, as we seem to now be a nation of conquest - as evidenced by our soon-to-be annexation of Iraq, Afghanistan, and in the upcoming years Iran - we could instead enact slave labor camps. As you care only for the state of cows, you may be happy to know that there are very few cows in these countries; we could, instead, relocate our dairy factories to these otherwise useless nations and chain their women to these machines, creating a Nike-like cheap labor that would suit our digestive American needs.

I would not, myself, go so far as to suggest the methods by which these women would remain in a state of pregnancy - which, as you so pointedly noted, would be required in order for the women to consistently produce the milk needed. However, should the need arise I would be more than willing to volunteer my own services in this regards. No payment would be necessary, and travel to remote locations would not be a concern.

Of some concern, however, would be the potential "taint" posed by, shall we say, less sanitary women and the milk they would in turn produce. Perhaps B&J could enter into the drug trade, as I'm certain a large percentage of the women volunteering their services would already be some form of substance abuser. Kill two birds with one stone, as they say; Ben & Jerry Crack Houses could become a new franchise and source of income for the company.

I do have some trepidation; the costs of these enterprises would likely increase the price of ice cream tenfold. However, by putting the label "organic" on each carton, it by default enhances the quality of the product and guarantees the ice cream's inclusion on the shelves of Whole Foods. Price, as we already know from current Whole Food shoppers, would then not be a concern.

As I'm more than certain Ben & Jerry's is strongly considering your suggestion, may I be so bold as to further compliment your idea by proposing names that the company could use, in their new Breast Milk line of ice cream flavors?

Brownie Brown-Eyed Susan
Hazelnut Honkers
Tropical Fruit Melons Medley
Ho-Ho-Hooters
Bouncing Berry Betties
Traffic Light Triple Medley
Around the Globes
Bananas 'n Bongoes

If I may be so bold, I would like to finalize this letter by sending you several mops; by now, after reading this document, your floor must be flooded with the dripping sarcasm it has left. You may also find the wooden handle of the mops very helpful, as the stick you already have up your butt is by now completely splintered by your tight-assedness.

Sincerely,
Eric

Bubbly Goodness

When I was young, there was a candy we all loved (at least, in my Bronx neighborhood we did) called Orbits.

Orbits, for those of you not in the know, were tiny pebble-sized sugar dots that came in a small box for maybe, 10cents. The boxes also came with a straw, the type that they give you with drinks at a bar, so that you could suck up the candy in the box with the straw.

Kids being kids, we all very creatively found a much better use for the candy AND the straw.

Pellet shooting.

I mean let's face it, they were absolutely perfect for this; tiny pellets, spherical, that came with it's own projectile launcher. They SOLD it to us, we'd be remiss if we didn't take full advantage of it. Who needed paper spitballs when you could literally shoot someone's eye out with sugary goodness? It came WITH the pea shooter, for christ's sake! This, to a child's mind, meant it was LEGAL!

When you shot someone with an Orbits pea, it was practically government sanctioned!

I bring this up, because there is a phenomenon that, admittedly, I do not see the appeal to. Not in the normal, sane-member-of-society sense, anyway.


We're talking about bubble tea.

To the typical American who has no idea what the freak I'm talking about, bubble tea is an asian - Taiwanese, to be specific - import that has overwhelmed the chinatown areas of our major cities. The abridged version of the Wiki description is as follows:

The distinctive characteristic of bubble tea is the presence of chewy translucent balls of pearl tapioca (that sit at the bottom of the glass). Cooked, large pearls have a diameter of at least 6 millimeters. The pearls are prepared by boiling for 25 minutes, until they are cooked thoroughly but have not lost pliancy, then cooled for 25 minutes. After cooking they last about 7 hours. The pearls have little taste, and are usually soaked in sugar or honey solutions.

Bubble teas are generally of two distinct types: fruit-flavored teas, and milk teas. However, some shops offer a hybrid "fruit milk tea." Milk teas may use dairy or non-dairy creamers.

The original bubble tea consisted of a hot Taiwanese black tea, brown large pearl tapioca, condensed milk, and honey. As this drink became more popular, variations were created.

Today one can find shops entirely devoted to bubble tea, similar to juice bars of the early 1990s. (They are served with a straw.) The straw may be brightly colored, and is oversize, large enough for sucking up the pearls.

I'm sure you can see where I'm going with this.

So. These drinks come with rounded, tasteless wads of sticky gluten. And a fat straw.

Why am I the only one who seems to see the dangerous applications of this?

I have to tell you...these straws and tapioca balls are perfect for spitballing. Per-fect. I wish they'd had these when I was growing up!

Forget the drinks they come with; I could pour snapple over beheaded gummi bears and come up with the same flavor. The draw, to me anyway, are the wonderous projectile applications of these tapioca balls! Why aren't there more kids being suspended or given detention in school for having bubble tea wars?

What the hell is wrong with kids today?! I've personally tested these, many times, and I have to tell you - with the size of the straw and the rounded consistency of the tapioca, you can achieve considerable range. And we have the added bonus of the stickiness of the tapioca upon impact.

Walking with a friend who *snort* actually buys them to DRINK (!), she didn't believe me on the range and accuracy of these pudding dots. I then fired off a round or two at the stop sign across the street, smiling satisfactorily at the metallic *ping* that followed each.

I'm sure she was impressed. Really.

We decided, in the interest of science, to continue to prove this theory and found multiple targets for me to practice my sharpshooting (sharpspitting?)

In hindsight, I did consider that perhaps defacing public property was not the brightest move. Doing so by the Department of Corrections and the Chinatown prison, possibly even less brilliant. Fortunately we came to this conclusion before any police could watch our demonstration.

She did manage to get off a shot of our handiwork before we ran for the hills.

Checkpoint Charlie

After dropping Deli home tonight I figure hey, it's 7:30 - i've got enough time to make it home in time to drool over Felicia Day on "House", and I won't even need to kick in the hyperdrive engines.

Of course, this didn't take into account the U.N.

The fuckers.

A 20-25 min drive turned into nearly an hour, thanks to the single-lane checkpoint the NYPD has set up along the FDR.

This kaleidoscope of color you see isn't xmas come early - this is the highway as I sat in it, cursing myself for not crossing to the west side before heading uptown.

And what draconian procedure do the cars have to endure, as they reach the checkpoint?

I stopped. They shone a flashlight in my face. Then waved me on.

WTF?!

Was the flashlight some star trekkian genetic scan, some futuristic facial recognition device as yet unheard of by the general public? What purpose did that serve?

"He's american. Let him through."

It really does beg the question: what would have caused them to pull me aside? Did I need to have bombs in the passenger seat?

Or maybe, things would have been different if i'd been wearing a turban.

Arab IS the new Black, after all. Are Pakistanis going to complain about getting pulled over for DWAs now?

That checkpoint...concerns me. I don't want to return to the Jim Crow days.

Thanks, FDNY

here's the scene this morning as I patiently (hah!) wait for the fire trucks to eave, so I can move my car :(

Worldly Concerns

Bless me father, for I have sinned. It's been nearly two weeks since my last confession.

Blog, confession. Whatever. You get the point.

I can't say why, really; perhaps, as in all things in life, I just needed a slight break. A digital vacation, a literary getway. There have been so many things to talk about, things of great import - the Democratic Convention, McCain's Vice Presidential choice, the US Open, the hurricanes, the start of the NFL season. My brain is stuffed near to brim with all of the possible topics; how, I ask myself, do I start my first day back on the blog? What topic could I choose, from amongst so many?

Cat poo coffee.

Yes, you heard me. Coffee, from cat poo.

Perhaps I exaggerate. Slightly. But not by much.

It's called Kopi Luwak, and is coffee made from coffee berries which have been eaten by and passed through the digestive tract of the Asian Palm Civet.

The civets eat the berries, but the beans inside pass through their system undigested. This process takes place on the islands of Sumatra, Java and Sulawesi in the Indonesian Archipelago, in the Philippines (where the product is called Kape Alamid) and in East Timor (locally called kafé-laku).

The inner bean of the berry is not digested, but it has been proposed that enzymes in the stomach of the civet add to the coffee's flavor by breaking down the proteins that give coffee its bitter taste. The beans are defecated still covered in some inner layers of the berry. The beans are washed, and given only a light roast so as to not destroy the complex flavors that develop through the process. Some sources claim that the beans may be regurgitated instead of defecated.

Now...as eager as you obviously are to rush out and get your freshly shat pound of coffee, consider this. Kopi Luwak is the most expensive coffee in the world, selling for between $120 and $600 USD per pound.

Can I get a collective WTF, hallelujah and amen?

Seriously. WTF? W-T-F?! Why is shit-flavored coffee more expensive than others? Insanely more expensive?

...you know, in retrospect, I guess it makes a certain amount of sense. I mean, let's face it - you're gonna have to pay me a shitload (pun intended) of cash to chase after a nasty little bugger that looks like a raccoon, dig through it's feces looking for berries, to turn into coffee. Cuz that's not exactly a job that's gonna bring in the ladies, 'knamean?

But consider this question, which naturally popped into my head.

How, exactly, did this whole enterprise get started?

Think about this for a second. Some guy in kuala lumpur, wandering through the jungle, steps in some cat shit and, as he's wiping it off with a handy leaf, discovers coffee berries.

This guy, being of obviously sound body and mind, then popped said berries into his mouth. And oh-boy oh-boy, what a taste sensation THAT was!

Fast forward, and now he's living in a giant plantation house with a backyard pen full of these nasty little weasels. All they get to eat are coffee berries, which incidently probably makes them fairly exciteable little things. Which may also be why the coffee is so expensive, because fuck YOU if you think I'm going in a pen full of weasel-cats hopped up on caffine and NOT get paid a ton of cash.

Now...forgetting the fact that someone came up with this shit of an idea.

Someone had to actually BUY these beans from him, KNOWING it came out of a civet's ass. And did so eagerly.

In light of this, Governor Palin calling Obama a Sambo just doesn't seem all that staggering, does it?

Cuckoo for Cocoa

Chocolate lovers: this one's for you.

Yes, you are seeing this correctly. A cuckoo clock...that spits out chocolate. On demand.


Firebox is selling this wonderful $40 ChocoClock online through their UK site, I assume because while those Britons "just gotta have it", Americans just don't want it that badly for forty bucks.

Their ad suggests:

This stylish retro-modern timepiece is a bit like a cuckoo clock but when its shutters open, on the hour every hour, it delivers a scrumptious chocolate treat to the tune of the 'Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy'. You then have 30 seconds to retrieve your reward before the clock snatches it back.

An ideal gift for the chocoholic with everything, the Chococlock is bound to become a must-have accessory for executive diet-dodgers everywhere. Simply fill it with your favourite bite-size sweeties (Maltesers, Revels, Minstrels, etc) and wait for the big hand to reach that magical number twelve.

For the weak-willed amongst you the Chococlock features a naughty but nice cheat button that will deliver a treat whenever you press it.

Okay. Let's face it. This is, easily, among the top 10 stupid products for the month. Why would I pay for a clock that dispenses chocolate - a clock, incidently, that i have to FILL with said chocolate - when I can just leave the box of chocolate open on my desk? How fat and lazy do you have to be, to want a clock that *dings* and presents you with a nice candy treat, every hour on the hour?

Do you really have such a need for a steady supply of chocolately goodness, that you need a device to set up an automated schedule for eating it?

I do like that the site is somewhat tongue in cheek, recogizing that if you're that much of a candy freak you're probably a moron - and they don't pretend to hide the fact that they're assuming you ARE a moron"

The Chococlock holds about 30 bits of chocolate, so assuming you resist hitting the cheat button you can sit gawping in anticipation for a marathon (or should that be Snickers?) 30 hours. Which is obvious, we know, but if you're loopy enough to sit by a sweet-dispensing clock for that long it's unlikely you can count.

It even has FEATURES, to protect you from yourself: a light sensor, to ensure that it doesn't dispense chocolate in the dark.

Because heavens forbid you should wake up to a small mountain of chocolate by your bedside.

I'm Ashamed To Be Black

I know, on occasion, black folk can be extremely ghetto. Ghetto fabulous. Every year we get the prom photos, we hear about the tacky weddings, we get to see the thugs all blinged out in their run-down tenement apartments. We get morons who make deals for KFC in exchange for criminal confessions. I get it. I may not agree with it, I may even be embarrased by it. But I get it.

But. People. Come the fuck on. Sometimes ya'll just gotta step the fuck in and bitch slap somebody!!

This video...is disturbing. On many levels. Thanks Tammy for sending it to me, but I gotta tell ya...I almost didn't want to post this. It borders on kiddie porn, at the very least somebody's parents need get a serious slapping, those kids need to be yanked from their home, and frankly I'm fully convinced now that some people need to be LICENSED before they're allowed to have children.

When it comes to knowing what's good and bad for your children, there is a...no. No no no no. Fuck that shit. The line isn't fine, it's broad as an 8-lane fucking highway. There's just some shit you don't let your kids do, and you sure as FUCKING HELL don't videotape it and put it online! I'm convinced I'm going to hell just for sharing this shit - but since I'm going to hell anyway, fuck it; I'm trying to make a point, and just DESCRIBING the video will not convey how disturbing it really is.

I'm going to let you watch this video and decide for yourselves whether or not I'm right. Even though I know I am, but I don't need to convince myself of that - you need self-assurance, and I respect that. So watch, and form your own conclusion.

And when you're done, I'll have held your place on line behind me. Because I know there's a couple of parents you're gonna wanna slap the shit out of in about a minute.

They'll Have to Permanently Graft Them To My Face

In New York, a fine of $25 can be levied for flirting. This old law specifically prohibits men from turning around on any city street and looking "at a woman in that way." A second conviction for a crime of this magnitude calls for the violating male to be forced to wear a "pair of horse-blinders" wherever and whenever he goes outside for a stroll.

Prince, in a song off his "Batman" album, had a line: if a man is considered guilty for what goes on his mind, then give me the electric chair for all my future crimes.

Book 'im, Danno.

All of this came about because a friend (thanks, Jasmin!) forwarded me a law she found in Texas, that requires criminals to give - orally or in writing - 24hrs notice to their victims, explaining the nature of the crime to be committed.

Can I get a WhatTheFuck, amen and hallelujah?

Can you picture this? There's a knock on your door; a man in a suit is there. You open it; "Hello, are you Mrs. Sanderson? These are for you." He hands you a sheaf of papers. In it are documents outlining someone's intent to rob your house. They specific the rooms they intend to burgle, the possessions they expect to find and take, and the damages they expect to incur to your property. The man in the suit - a process server - ask you: "Now, can you sign here...initial here...and here. And sign here." He hands you a copy, and wishes you a lovely day.

Does following the law then make the "crime" now legally sanctioned? Is the potential victim required, by law, to then allow the acts outlined in the notice to occur, or face penalities themselves? If the victim attempts to disrupt the criminal act, are they in fact then breaking the law?

Who the FUCK came up with this shit?!

The fun, unfortunately, does not end with Texas or New York. This wonderful country of ours is FILLED with stupid laws that, for whatever reason, have not been taken off the books and remain in effect to this very day. How stupid, you ask?

Well, why don't we go exploring and find out!

In Florida, an unmarried woman is prohibited from parachuting on Sunday or they risk arrest and/or a fine. Because God don't like spinsters, and sure as Hell doesn't want the Devil to see up their skirts as they come floating down to the ground.

A New Mexico law prohibits females from appearing unshaven in public. Okay, this one I can understand, cuz have you seen some of those Mexican women...? (joking! sheesh!)

In Pennsylvania, no man may purchase alcohol without written consent from his wife. Well Ted Kennedy's pretty much fucked then.

Washington, in an effort to prove they're better than Texas, has a law that makes it mandatory for a motorist with criminal intentions to stop at the city limits and telephone the chief of police as he is entering the town. Where, I assume, they will be fined for speaking on a cell phone while operating a vehicle.

Ladies, take notice: in Arizona, it is illegal to have more than two dildos in a house. So, His and Hers? Hers and Hers? His and His?

Which isn't so bad, when you consider that in Georgia, ALL sex toys are banned. Which plays hell with the entire Georgian porn industry.

In Idaho, it is illegal to fish from a camel's back. Dammit, there goes my chance at Olympic gold in Camelback Fishing.

Speaking of strange animal laws, in Massachusetts no gorilla is allowed in the back seat of any car. I'm assuming this means it's okay for them to drive.

Occasionally, however, someone gets it right. In Rhode Island, any marriage where either of the parties is an idiot or lunatic is null and void. Which, were it to carry over into New York, would pretty much make everyone newly single.


http://www.dumblaws.com/

Officer, I Need It To Measure My Coffee Sugar

I'm a gadget nut. I'm a guy, it almost goes with the territory - but I like finding odd little gizmos that inexplicably people line up to buy. However, there often comes along something that boggles the mind.

This little piece of 80's retrocity (is that a word? Who cares. My new name is Webster.) is called a WatchScale. It's a scale...for your wrist. For portable scaliness. Because I often have a need to measure the weight of things when I'm on the move.

I love the product page for this thing. Here is how they describe the "Key Benefits":

The first Pocket WatchScale® ever!
Because there was SUCH a void that needed filling here.
It's amazingly small, the smallest digital scale ever made (2008)
I'd have said "stupidly small", but hey, that's me...
Reads in Grams, Ounces, Troy Ounces & PennyWeight
That's good news for our friends in the UK, since I don't think anyone else actually uses a "pennyweight"
Protective-Cover doubles as an Expansion-Tray
...and why does it need a tray?
Stylish Leather Wrist-Band
I don't care if the band says Dolche, nothing could make this monstrosity "stylish"
Bright-Blue Back-lit LCD Display
Because when you're measuring things in the dark, this is really helpful
Your friends will gawk and say 'Holy cow!' when they see this amazing invention
More likely your friends will laugh and call you a geek.

Now...here's the thing. Because with me, there always is. I've been mulling this over and over in my brain, and I've come to a singular conclusion.

Is there anyone OTHER than drug dealers that would use something like this?

Seriously, isn't this like hi-tech for cocaine traffickers? "Hey man, lemme get a gram..." "Sure, let me whip out my handy Pocket WatchScale® and spoon out a perfect gram-size vial for you!"

What the hell would ANYONE else need this Dick Tracy-esque gizmo for?

Old women, measuring out their Equal for their morning tea?
Chemists who like to see what happens when they mix two powders while sitting on a plane?

How does a commercial for this product go? What do we get, some lab tech in a white coat, bemoaning the fact that his table-top scale is sooooooo far away on the other end of his work counter? "Oh lawdy, if ONLY someone made a smaller, more portable scale that I could carry with me alllllll the way over here?"

Cut to: a sudden flash, and a guy in a superhero caped costume appears. "Never fear, NerdGuy is here!" He flashes his wrist, and ta-da! There's a Pocket WatchScale®, ready for the lab tech to use!

"Thanks, NerdGuy!"

Somehow, I think this commercial would sell a lot better if they were just honest.

Scene: a dark alley in an urban neighborhood, deep in the inner part of a major metropolis. A car pulls up to a guy leaning against the wall. "Hey man...lemme get a couple of grams."

The dealer looks around, nods; walks up and hands the guy a vial. The driver looks skeptical. "Hmm. How do I know you're not shortin' me, bro?"

The dealer grins, snaps his wrist - and shows the guy his Pocket WatchScale®! "Check this out, hombre!", and weighs the vials on the scale.

The driver squints. "Man, I can't see JACK! It's too dark!"

The dealer winks. "Check this shit out!" and presses a button, lighting up the display with the handy LCD backlight.

The driver nods, smiling. "Fucking A, man!", and drives off happy.

Fade to black.

Hell, I'd buy one with a commercial like that!

His Darwin Award is Still Pending

Kite Surfing, for those who aren't in "the know", is an "extreme" sport where a surfer uses a giant kite and the whims of the wind to propel themselves across the water. Naturally, the more wind you have - the greater the speed, and assumedly the more fun you have.

However. There are limits, people. Hence today's Darwin Award candidate.

To recap: the Darwin Awards are given to people who, through their own moronic acts of sheer stupidity, have done the world a great favor by removing their stupidity from the gene pool - saving the rest of us from having to deal with their potentially stupider offspring.

While I am not wishing any ill will on this person, if the fates should have their way he is a definite strong Darwin candidate.

26-year-old Kevin Kearney had a sudden inspiration - that Tropical Storm Fay and her 50mph winds, currently hitting the Florida coastline, would be the PERFECT time to break out the kite and board and head down to the beach.

He ends up getting flung across the beach and into the side of a building - fortunately for our viewing entertainment, it happened right in front of a local news crew. The video footage is a bit grainy and waterlogged, but they do a slo-mo rewind later and it's worth watching:



He's currently in critical condition. While I wish him well...just in case, his Darwin Award is on standby.

Is it Live, Memorex...or Something More?

I've never been a big fan of CGI.

Let me clarify that. I do not believe that CGI can effectively replace the human element in film. While, with motion-capturing software, we can simulate the movements of the human body, we can create "skins" over these wire-frame models that give a very reasonable facsimile of the textures and blemishes of the human face...I have not been convinced, based on existing use, that a computer can mimic the subtle nuances of physical facial expressions to such a degree as to be believeable.

In 2002, Al Pacino starred in a fairly unknown film, Simone ("S1m0ne"), that sort of brought this point to bear. A producer, desperate for a hit and having had his star actress quit a film, finds himself in the sole possession of a piece of new technology that allows him to digitally create a synthetic actress (there's an oxymoron). The actress, Simone, becomes an overnight sensation - with a singing career to boot. She's so believable on screen, so talented - as guided by the director's technical manipulations - that everyone completely believes she is a real person, which of course causes problems for the director who has to explain why his actress is never seen in public.

I'd never really believed this could ever be possible.

Until - maybe - now.

There is a company called Image Metrics that does quite of bit of facial imagery for the gaming community. Their proprietary software does not use motion capture; instead they film an actor's face as they emote during a dialogue, digitize that face, and allow their software to analyze the nuances of the brow, eyes, and mouth movements as the person speaks. The resulting data allows them to then attach those motions to a digital character, allowing them to very accurately simulate human expressions. You can watch the promotional video here:


However. There is another video that could be potentially more mind blowing. Here is an Image Metrics spokesperson, going into more detail on the specifics of how far advanced they actually are in this process:



Once, Hollywood told us: you will believe a man can fly.

Now, maybe that man flying isn't a man at all.

Spandex Not Required

It's mid-August folks, which means...

Only 73 more days until Halloween!! Whoo-hoo!

Yes, you heard me. Halloween. You got a problem with that?! Listen, if KMart, Walmart and every other goddamn Mart in this country can start putting up Xmas decorations in October, then I can damn well push my calendar up two months as well and start talking about Halloween in August. So fuck off, buzzkiller.

Anyway. As I sit here gleefully contemplating the upcoming holiday, I can't help but think back to holidays - and costumes - past. One year I was particularly brave and yes, Virginia, I did go with the spandex body suit. I at least had the decency to wear a black one, and I was in enough shape that it didn't look bad on me.

However. I am no longer in the shape I once was, and there is just no way in hell I'll be caught dead in a spandex bodysuit this year.

Just as importantly...neither should a bunch of you.

I've decided that this year will be the Year of the Superhero, in terms of costumes; maybe Year of the Comic Book might be better, as I'm sure the land will be filled with Batmen, Nurse-Jokers, Suit-Jokers, Two-Faces, Iron Men, Iron Mongers, War Machines...

But please. Don't go with the spandex unless you've got the figure to pull it off! Don't, for the love of god, be this guy:

As a public service, the following is a No Spandex Required list of comic book figures that will allow even the pillsbury-doughiest of us to walk proudly down the streets of Greenwich Village:

The Thing
The original wrestler known as the "rock". He's big, he's orange, he's covered in stone. Fat guys rejoice, this is styrofoam and spray paint project that might take you all of a couple of hours work.

The Hulk
Get green paint. Bathe in it. Be fat. Welcome to the Hulk costume.

Iron Man
Squeeze into tin can. Paint red and gold. Include flashlight, pretend it's a repulsor ray.

The Question
Brown trenchcoat, white shirt with tie, fedora, and tan pantyhose to pull over your face. Of course the real question everyone will be asking is...who the hell are you supposed to be?

Rorschach
From the upcoming Watchmen movie. Take Question costume above, substitute white pantyhose for tan, and splatter with ink blots. Outcome will be the same, no one will know who the fuck you are anyway. Nerd.

Robocop
Knock knock. Who's there? The 80s, they'd like you to forget they existed, thanks. Seriously folks, if you show up in a Robocop costume you're begging to be hit in the back of the head with a pipe. What, you couldn't afford an Iron Man costume?

Gambit
A card-carrying member of the Trenchcoat Brigade. Ha. Ha. Paint a big stick grey, carry a deck of cards. Fling them at people and yell "Boom!" a lot. Should win prize for Most Annoying Costume, Ever

Bizarro
Okay, so technically A) he's a villain, and B) he DOES wear spandex. But this is supposed to be a backwards universe, so add some pasty white makeup and be proud of your out-of-shape body, you Bizarro-stud you!

Ghost Rider
Leather jacket, spikes, and carry a chain. Get a skull mask, set on fire. Guaranteed to spook the kiddies, and best of all with all that burning rubber (...okay and hair, and flesh) they won't be looking to see what kind of shape you're in.

So you see? You do have choices. And even if your beer belly is large enough to hide a truckload of kegs inside, just imagine: this could be you in 2+ months:

Jesus Loves Me, This I Know

Sometimes you come across a thing that is oddly disturbing, and you're not quite certain what to make of it.

In Boise, Idaho, there's a trial going on to convict Joseph Edward Duncan III, a 45yr old pedophile who abducted sexually abused an 8 and 9 year old girl and boy "after Duncan fatally bludgeoned the children's mother, Brenda Groene; their 13-year-old brother, Slade; and the mother's fiance, Mark McKenzie."

Absolutely horrible, and I hope this guy fries in a very painful way for his crimes.

What has me...a bit freaked, the obvious notwithstanding, was the artist rendering of the courtroom defendant.

I'm not making that up. That's the actual drawing by the courtroom artist, done during the trial.

http://ap.google.com/article/ALeqM5ih9PC1RGTMj8e36k8W6i70uxXGeQD92ILVEG0

WTF?!

Are you kidding me? I'm not even going to talk about his crimes. I'm upset at the artist. What the FUCK were you thinking, when you drew this? And it isn't the first, I've found others that are similar. I don't give a rat's fucking ass if he did grow his hair long, add a beard and sat there in prison robes...what the hell is with the yellow glow, and the peaceful look?

Seriously, is someone taking a good hard look at the courtroom artist's background? Because this fucker obviously has a jesus-complex about this pedo! How in the hell do you DRAW something like THIS about a guy who molests and kills a NINE-YEAR-OLD BOY...and not think to yourself, "Hmmm. Perhaps I've put him in too good a light."

Was this just coincidental? Or is this a twisted joke?

I'm not even a Christian, and I'm offended at this crap! What the hell, man!

This is some seriously creepy shit, that's all I'm saying. And anyone who draws a child molester to look like Jesus, well...I'd be checking his references, hard. Kna'mean?

Sibling Love

Excerpts from an actual IM chat I had last week with my youngest sister. You gotta love 'em.

[11:46] monique: You should apply for a position with the village voice
[11:47] monique: and then buy me a car with your chump change because it was my idea. =)
[11:47] EricTrickster: I couldn't afford gas for the car, from a job at the village voice
[11:50] EricTrickster: why this sudden inspired suggestion?
[11:50] monique: because you write better than alot of these columnists out there
[11:50] EricTrickster: well thank you
[11:50] EricTrickster: but see, you said Village Voice and not the Times, the News...hahaha
[11:51] monique: you're way too vulgar for the times

When she's right...she's right! :)

Age Ain't Nothing But A Number

All Washed Up

I've previously criticized the waterfall displays recently put up here in NYC (only a few million dollars to do, mind you), mainly because I felt they look cheap and uninspiring. Nice concept, poor execution. I realize I'm in the minority, but all great thinkers and visionaries are, so screw you all. Nyeh.

But to drive the point home, there's a similar project on display in Fukuoka, Japan - in a shopping mall. The waterfall uses a computer to control hundreds of nozzles to precisely deliver water drops so that they fall forming a pattern... and that's anything from words to pictures. You'll be amazed, watching this video, at the level of detail they're able to achieve using falling water; it's a fantastic degree of precision.

And I watch, this, and go...

How much did we pay for those damn waterfalls again?!

No Bottle of Hennessey?

New Yorker Tremayne Durham, 33, struck a plea bargain last month in which he was guaranteed a meal of KFC chicken, Popeye's chicken, mashed potato, coleslaw, carrot cake and ice cream - in return for pleading guilty to murder.

As part of the deal, and after receiving a life sentence this week in court in Portland, Oregon, Durham will also get a second feast, this time on an Italian theme, with calzone, lasagne, pizza and ice cream.

The judge, Eric Bergstrom, is understood to have accepted the bargain because it would save the state of Oregon thousands of dollars in hosting a trial and possible subsequent appeals.

The murder happened in June 2006 as a revenge killing. Durham travelled from New York City right across the country to confront an Oregon company from whom he had ordered a truck costing $18,000.

He had been intending to enter the ice cream business, but when he changed his mind the company refused to give him a refund on the truck.

In a blaze of fury, he intended to collar the owner of the truck company but instead came across a former employee, Adam Calbreath, and shot him dead.

Bruh...you just set the civil rights movement back 50 years. Why the hell couldn't you have asked for a nice filet mignon, scalloped potatoes, a bottle of wine...

No. Your country-ass had to ask for FUCKING FRIED CHICKEN, didn't you?! What, no grape Kool-Aid?! Maybe some watermelon to go with that to? What the fuck!

Goddamn it. You Toby-ass motherfucker. Damn I hate this crap. All it ever takes is one cotton-picking, nappy-headed dipshit to make the news, and that's all people will remember:

The negro who signed his life away for a chicken leg.

Crap like this makes me remember the Chappelle Show skit, in which they did the Racial Draft - the various races would lay claim to certain celebs, based on their race - perceived or actual. Whoopie Goldberg to the Jews, Tiger Woods being fought over by the Asians and Blacks...you get the idea.

I think on that, and wonder...

...can we trade? I'd rather take two Vanilla Ice's over this moron.

Choose Wisely

Okay, this is taking the whole "Beauty and the Geek" thing a bit too far.

In a moment of complete serendipity, given that I had a near-identical conversation with a friend yesterday over this, I stumbled across a very interesting little bit of Fall television news.

Playboy TV (I only watch for the articles) is planning on launching a new game show, "Gadget or the Girl", where a male contestant gets to choose between a) an unknown piece of high tech gear, or a date with a playboy hottie.

Hmm.

Gidget, or gadget?
iPod or iPootang?
PS3, or Puss?
HDTV, or H.I...vicious, too vicious. Forget I just said that.

The show starts with the guy forced to choose immediately between three women, ditching one. The remaining threesome (hah! he should be so lucky) go on a date to get to know each other, and eventually he narrows his choice down to one woman. But then he has to decide between a gadget or a getaway weekend with the girl, with the possibly high-tech toys ranging from a 60" plasma TV to an arcade game machine.

In what sounds like Let's Make a Deal, though, the guy doesn't know what the gadget is until he makes his pick. And, to give the girl more incentive, if he picks her, she gets her own gadget.

So, let me get this straight.

The girl gets:
- a free three-way date, where she all but throws herself at the guy to get him to pick her;
- if chosen, a free mystery gadget (insert "batteries not included" joke here) of her own;
- if chosen, a free weekend romantic getaway with a guy she barely knows and will probably ditch as soon as she gets off the plane.

The guy gets:
- a three-way date, where two women will pretend to fight over him for the sake of television;
- a chance to choose between a gadget that may be a 60" HDTV, but will likely be an electric nose hair trimmer, or a date with a playboy hottie;
- if he chooses the hottie, he gets to spend a romantic weekend getaway alone while she makes out with the cabana boy.

Hmmm.

Not for nothing...but unless she's guaranteeing me some action (and I'd want video!), I'm going for the XBox.

Down, Rover

First...the following video may disturb you. If you're anything like me, it will most certainly amuse you. I'm still wiping the tears from my eyes, from laughing so hard.



But I do have a question. Forgetting completely the poor child who was being violated by the dog, and the surrealness of it all...

...who was behind the kid, FILMING the entire event?

And not stopping it? WTF?!!?

This kid is squealing like a stuck pig (pardon the metaphor), and his Mumsy and Daddykins are chuckling behind a lens, watching this molestation happen. Somebody bitchslap them, please!?

Parents. This is why ya'll need to get involved, ya see? This poor kid will now be scarred for life, huddling up in the corner of his room, twitching every time he hears a bark. All because you wanted to get some film for America's Funniest Home Videos.

Fuck you, you retards.

This takes me back to my Prime Directive post of a little while back, about a penguin being assaulted by a seal.

People. Please. Drop the camera, step in, and you know...pull them apart, or something.

Geez.