Saturday, November 22, 2014

Are You Fucking Kidding Me?

This article has been up on Salon ALL DAY...and nobody has pointed out that the 50th anniversary of the assassination was LAST YEAR!!!! Wtf?

Friday, November 21, 2014

BREAKING NEWS: GOP Committee Hates Freedom, America; probably Jesus and his scrappy, loveable sidekick Baby Jesus too.

Sad, really.

VIA.

Irony, Table for One

Some of the comments nail it.

Previous Schilling h8 HERE.

ps - I stumbled upon this one after seeing his Twitter battle decrying evolution via Deadspin.

Portrait of the Artist as a Young Pallbearer at HIs Aunt Pat's Funeral

10:30am-12:00pm: a model pallbearer; maybe one of the all-time greats. From the Mass through the burial, made every right move.
12:01pm: realized my fly had been open the entire time.

Sigh.

Tuesday, November 18, 2014

Max RIP

My friends Serge & Monica's dog Max was put down this morning. I think he was 13; I spent plenty of hours with Max when we both were rocking it out in Brooklyn. He's popped up on this blog several times, and was the inspiration for this:
8) For some reason I always catch myself being surprised at how dogs just aren’t interested in the same things we are. For instance I was dog-stting last night and I happened to drop $40 on the floor (that’s right ladies, Xmastime is flush right now!!!) and for a split second I thought oh shit! I’d better grab it before he does!! But of course he just blankly looked at it and walked away. I thought wow, that’s funny, he could care less about money. But then again, I’m not into eating other dogs’ shit, so I guess we’re even.
Also, the only good Valentine's date I've had this century.

So long, buddy.

Bittersweet Symphony

When I moved to New York City I had $7, which I immediately spent at White Castle. Then I spent weeks going from door to door asking for a job, with those roasted peanut carts wringing my goddam guts out block by goddam block. And I will never forget the moment I'd had enough, when I said "fuck this!" and I was gonna chuck it all in, that I for some reason entered the old Tower Records on 42nd street, and this fucking song kicked off as I opened the door, just as if it was watching me. The timing was so perfect, I WAS that dude walking down the street singing.  I don't give a fuck about the band, or the album, or the song itself, but I will always remember that moment as the moment I realized I belonged in the fucking city. It was the moment of my life. And I'll never forget it.

Monday, November 17, 2014

Thanks, Anonymous

In yesterday's post about my Aunt Pat dying I found this in the comments section. It's absolutely the nicest comment I've had in the almost 10 years I've been posting, and just generally feels good to read.

I have read about your Aunt Pat several times on this blog and each time your affection for her is very clear. She was blessed to be so loved and obviously shares your funny bone. I love the way she said Bob. Bowab.

Oh, Come the Fuck On Already

I've written many, many times how much I've always loved 1984's classic Do They Know It's Christmas? So they're remade it today for Ebola, and of course it completely sucks, not even including why they kept "feed the world" for Ebola when it was intended for starvation. What the fuck?

FIngers Crossed

That they don't fuck this up:
When The Peanuts Movie arrives in theaters next year, producer Paul Feig promises that Charlie Brown won't twerk, wear a baseball cap backwards or try to "break the Internet" a la Kim Kardashian.

In fact, there won't be a focus on the old-fashioned or the modern when the late Charles M. Schulz's characters including Snoopy, Woodstock, Linus and Peppermint Patty come to life in the 3-D computer-animated film (out Nov. 6, 2015). Instead, director Steve Martino (Ice Age: Continental Drift) and the filmmakers focus on the timeless quality of 50-plus years of beloved comic strips and TV specials.
Will be tough to top the classic animation, but I'll give it a try.

Sunday, November 16, 2014

Goodbye Aunt Pat

My Aunt Pat died yesterday. I've mentioned her throughout the years on this blog; a simple "Aunt Pat" in the search bar will yield some pretty funny results.

We probably saw each other on fewer than 2 dozen occasions throughout my 42 years: she lived in Lowell, Massachusetts for 74 years, and I didn't, so.

But of all my relatives (of which there have been a surprising few, for an Irish Catholic family out of Massachusetts), I always felt the most like her. Of the siblings from our respective generations (she the middle child of 5, me the second of 4), neither one of us would ever be called the smartest, or the best looking, or the nicest, or the most talented or successful, or the one anyone would be bragging about around the campfire one day.

But we both are funny, and irreverent, and just generally easy to be around. Life is hard enough; both me and Aunt Pat serve the useful purpose of lightening things up whenever we show up - you could only be so upset about things whenever one of us would wander onto the screen, so to speak. There's value in that, which I learned from both her and my mother at an early age.

I not only never dreaded seeing my Aunt Pat, I always very much looked forward to it. That gives me something to aspire to as an uncle.

I'll repeat my favorite story that I only recently re-posted upon knowing I'd be going up to visit her for the last time:
My favorite Aunt Pat moment came just over 10 years ago; my Grandma May had died at age 95 and we were up for her funeral. I stayed the night in the house she had lived for most of her life, the last 60 of which had been with my aunts Pat and Eileen (don't ask). The morning of her funeral, Aunt Pat stuck her head into my room:
Aunt Pat: You want some breakfast?
Me: Sure, that'd be great.
Aunt Pat: How about some scrambled eggs?
Me: Oh yeah, definitely.
Aunt Pat: With some bacon?
Me: I love bacon!
Aunt Pat: You want some toast?
Me: Yeah.
Aunt Pat: White, or Jewish rye?
Me: Jewish rye.
Aunt Pat: So it's scrambled eggs, bacon, and Jewish rye toast?
Me: Sounds great.
Aunt Pat: It does. Make it your goddam self, I'm in mourning.
And just like that she walked back through the door, leaving me howling with laughter.
It's the same thing my mother would have done, or myself. And it still cracks me up. 
Typical Aunt Pat.

I suppose I've also reached that age at which one genuinely takes an interest in what's left from the lives of his or her parents. Aunt Pat knitted some oven mitts? Sure, I'll take them. Will I use them, who cares - they'll always remind me of her, and so much more.

For decades I've said people should be able to listen to Aunt Pat before they die, so I'm glad I tape-recorded her and her sister and their mother 14 years ago. I'll be re-digitizing all 6 hours I caught on tape, but here's a good start.

Goodbye, Aunt Pat.  Thanks, and I promise your sense of humor will live on as long as I do...along with that RIDICULOUS accent!! :)

Thursday, November 13, 2014

The Guinness Heir

Who was the inspiration for A Day in the Life.

A Day in the Life

Geoff Emerick on on what it was like to record The Beatles:
What was it like to hear a Beatles song for the first time — to have one of them walk in and start playing a new song? How would they introduce a song to the others? Oh, it was magic. It was all done in the studio. But normally, they'd come in with the lyric: “I've got this idea for the song, and it goes a bit like this.” I remember John [Lennon] picking up his acoustic and playing “A Day in the Life” to the rest of them, just saying, “This is how it goes.” And you'd be down in the studio, and you'd think, “My God, that's unbelievable!” I always remember when we went for the real vocal on that song — shivers ran down our backs as soon as he started singing.

Tease for the Weekend....

Wednesday, November 12, 2014

Landed!

Republican denies comet landing is happening, "hey, I'm not trained by a human spaceflight program to command, pilot, or serve as a crew member of a spacecraft."

Tuesday, November 11, 2014

Dear NASA

This video is insanely amazing, we don't need the fucking annoying music to go with it. Must you now align yourself with porn? Ugh.

I remain,
X
Astronaut - A journey to space from Guillaume JUIN on Vimeo.

Monday, November 10, 2014

CHANNEL 13

ANNOUNCEMENT

My 42-year streak of not being able to make a good grilled cheese sandwich is officially over.

This Is Amazing

London cab drivers have to pass the hardest test in the world:
Actually, “challenge” isn’t quite the word for the trial a London cabbie endures to gain his qualification. It has been called the hardest test, of any kind, in the world. Its rigors have been likened to those required to earn a degree in law or medicine. It is without question a unique intellectual, psychological and physical ordeal, demanding unnumbered thousands of hours of immersive study, as would-be cabbies undertake the task of committing to memory the entirety of London, and demonstrating that mastery through a progressively more difficult sequence of oral examinations — a process which, on average, takes four years to complete, and for some, much longer than that. The guidebook issued to prospective cabbies by London Taxi and Private Hire (LTPH), which oversees the test, summarizes the task like this:
DC cab drivers on the other hand, from what I can tell, take a test to prove they're baffled by GPS, have been driving in the city for fewer than 5 minutes, and have no idea where Union Station is.

Hillary Schmillary

I've written about the trap of Hillary's inevitability:
Hillary won't get elected for many reasons, but it's just occured to me that she is the 1997 Peyton Manning of the race. Remember Peyton back then? As soon as the 1996 Hesiman winner was announced, everybody in the free world said well, next year Peyton will run away with it. A no-brainer. The months went on and on and all anybody talked about was how Peyton was definitly gonna win the award. Then a funny thing happened. People got tired of talking about him being the only choice. Even though he clearly deserved to win it, people simply got tired of talking about him and started looking for reasons to vote for somebody else, anybody else. The average voter thought fuck it, I'm tired of hearing about Peyton - I'll vote for so and so; it's only one vote anyway, Peyton will still win. And ta-da! Even though he should've, he didn't win. Now here we are still a year away from the election; there's no way in 6 months people are going to be able to stomach even mentioning Hillary's name. Even if you like her, it's all too much. Too much daily controvery, too much media, by the end people will be worn down to the nubs and will not be able to support her. XMASTIME
Seven years later, the New Yorker is finally catching up.

Sigh. You people. Can you even TRY to keep up with me?

Friday, November 07, 2014

The Curious Career of Alfonso Soriano

Who retired the other day...I loved him in his early years with the Yankees; that over-sized bat looking like Bam-Bam's club as he waved it around, never seeing a pitch he didn't want to swing at. How was his career?
He was that rare power-speed combo and, for a few years there, one of the most exciting players in the game. When's the next time we're going to see a 40/40 player? 
And of course to show that thin line between greatness and who gives a shit:

Think how his career could be viewed differently: If Rivera hadn't blown that save, he'd be forever remembered as a Yankees hero; if the Cubs had reached the World Series one of those years, he'd be remembered as a great Cub.

The Best of Aunt Pat

I've always said that before they die, everyone should have a chance to listen to my Aunt Pat talk. Which they can do HERE.

You're welcome, Earth.

My favorite Aunt Pat moment came just over 10 years ago; my Grandma May had died at age 95 and we were up for her funeral. I stayed the night in the house she had lived for most of her life, the last 60 of which had been with my aunts Pat and Eileen (don't ask). The morning of her funeral, Aunt Pat stuck her head into my room:
Aunt Pat: You want some breakfast?
Me: Sure, that'd be great.
Aunt Pat: How about some scrambled eggs?
Me: Oh yeah, definitely.
Aunt Pat: With some bacon?
Me: I love bacon!
Aunt Pat: You want some toast?
Me: Yeah.
Aunt Pat: White, or Jewish rye?
Me: Jewish rye.
Aunt Pat: So it's scrambled eggs, bacon, and Jewish rye toast?
Me: Sounds great.
Aunt Pat: It does. Make it your goddam self, I'm in mourning.
And just like that she walked back through the door, leaving me howling with laughter.
It's the same thing my mother would have done, or myself. And it still cracks me up.

geez...my grandfather's exact dying words to me...

You are a: Communist Pro-Government Non-Interventionist Bleeding-Heart Libertine
Via: http://www.abtirsi.com/quiz2.php

I Love This Fucker

Earlier this year, about the scene in the movie Love Actually, when the dude hits the US and hooks up with three smoking hot chicks,  I wrote:
I don't think I've ever been more thrilled for a guy to get so lucky with the ladies in a movie as I am whenever I see this scene. I almost high-five the damn screen.
And now I stumble upon this:
Speaking of Kris Marshall, he so enjoyed filming his scenes with January Jones, Elisha Cuthbert, and that other woman that he returned his paycheck for the day. 
Awesome.

Thursday, November 06, 2014

Goals. I Have Them.

I need to get a girlfriend so that when we get into fights I can use lines from a Springsteen song without her even knowing it, a lá my classic 7/11 chemistry test.

Her: Yeah? Well guess what, I don't need your help!  I don't need anybody!
Me: Oh, really? Don't need nobody, huh? I guess you walk down the street pushin’ people outta your way?
Her: I can be out of here in 30 seconds, you'll never see me again!
Me: Oh, I see - you packed your bags and all alone you wanna ride? Is that it? You don’t want nothin’, don’t need no one by your side?
Her: You're goddam right!
Me: Well let ME tell YOU something - you're walkin’ tough baby, but you’re walkin’ blind to the ties that bind!
Her: Screw you!
Me: Now you can’t break the ties that bind!
Her: I can't believe I opened myself up to you!  I'll never make that mistake again!
Me: OH, I get it - you're so afraid of being somebody’s fool, not walkin’ tough baby, not walkin’ cool.  Is that it?
Her: Never again!
Me: You walk cool, but darlin’, can you walk the line? And face the ties that bind?
Her: What? What's with...ties, what?
Me: Now you can’t break the ties that bind!
Her: No, but I can stop myself from ever falling for anyone again!
Me: Not me, goddamit - I would rather feel the hurt inside, yes I would darlin’, than know the emptiness your heart must hide!
Her: Oh, I'm a heartless bitch now? Fuck you!
Me: Yes I would darlin’
Her: Fuck you!
Me: Yes I would darlin’
Her: Go to hell!
Me: Yes I would baby!